


All Is Found

by otto_tis_eratai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Arthur-centric, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Child Loss, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Happy Ending, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, Holding Hands, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Importance of Friendship, London, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Modern Era, Oblivious Arthur, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Past Suicide Attempt, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Pride, Self-Discovery, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, author loves London and I hope it shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 121,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otto_tis_eratai/pseuds/otto_tis_eratai
Summary: Arthur is back in modern-day England on an uneventful Friday evening and the world he used to know has been lost in the mists of time. Merlin is there to help him face his destiny one day at a time.A journey of love, acceptance, discovery, and finding the things that matter the most.[Rated E for chapters 12 and 13. All the other chapters are rated M]
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 163
Kudos: 317





	1. Prologue: The cold never bothered me anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for clicking on my story :) during lockdown I was looking for something new to watch and decided to go for BBC Merlin and wow, what a journey! This fic was born to help me cope with the finale. I've already written the first 4-5 chapters so I hope I'll be able to update regularly.  
> I am aware post-finale fics have been done a thousand times before but hey I'm finally writing again after three years so who cares!  
> Some overall warnings: first, this is going to be a very human, introspective journey, and magic doesn't appear much, so if you were looking to read a fantasy/adventure story I'm afraid this isn't what you want. Second, because it deals with the ambiguity of human emotions, it does get dark at times - specific warnings are going to be posted on the specific chapters. Third, please be aware of the slow burn.  
> Finally, I've been in the UK for years but English is still not my first language, so you might spot some mistakes.  
> I'll leave you with the prologue now, I hope you enjoy! Feedback of any kind is much appreciated xx

**Prologue: The cold never bothered me anyway**

Life in London could be as draining as it was exciting. Every single weekend his agenda would fill up with someone’s birthday party, or someone’s leaving drinks, or the latest street food pop-up to check out, or a fancy gig to attend. Or a new play, or a new exhibition, or a stag do. That is, if he didn’t have to work.

Which was why, on those increasingly rarer occasions when his shift pattern allowed and his absence wouldn’t offend anyone in his social circle, Merlin would jump in his car and drive west, out of the city and into the green English countryside.

That evening the rain was coming down in buckets, scorching and soaring against his windscreen, the echo inside the car so loud that it overpowered the music. Far from the ideal weather for a 3-hour drive, he’d thought, almost changing his mind, almost checking with Mel if she could add one more person to the bottomless cheese and wine dinner she’d booked for that night, almost but not quite. He’d figured, as he’d started the engine, that this was likely going to be his last chance at a peaceful weekend for the rest of the year - Halloween was just around the corner, and then there was bonfire season, and then slowly all the Christmas-themed events would roll his way, the odd panto, the boozy nights in Winter Wonderland, the ice-skating.

He drove out of London with just enough clothes for a couple of days and some of those books he’d bought ages ago and never got around to read. His body might have been that of a fit young man in his late 20s, but inside he was an old soul after all, some peace and quiet was needed from time to time.

The sight of the Glastonbury Tor welcomed him back from afar, when the sky was already dark. There he was again, many centuries later, same soul, new body, lost hopes.

He kept count at first. Every day since that damned day when he pushed Arthur’s body out in the lake, Merlin would draw a line in a diary, then write something about that day, even something useless or trivial. He knew Arthur would be back one day, the prophecy never lied, and Merlin wanted to tell him exactly how many days had gone by without him.

When the days turned into months, and the months into years, he switched to counting the years. When the years turned into centuries, he stopped keeping track.

Countless times throughout history he’d found himself believing this was it, this was when Arthur was needed back. The very first time was when Gwen died, leaving behind no direct heirs, and Camelot was contented for a couple of generations before it ceased existing as such. Then the Norman invasion. Then that endless war with France, or that complete human mess that was Henry XVIII and all the wars and succession problems his behaviour brought. Or The Civil War and the Republic. Or the various disputes over the colonies and Commonwealth territories.

And then, the world wars. The same way Merlin remembered when his hope was born, he remembered when it irrevocably died. Nazi bombs were falling all over London, sirens resounding in every street, down every lane. Scared people of all ages would cram themselves down in the tube tunnels to save their lives while their properties got destroyed, whispering reassuring words to one another. Merlin sat among them, his own knees drawn up to his chest, believing that surely, surely this was it. This was Albion’s moment of greatest need. 

But nothing happened.

Albion won the war without her Once and Future King, and Europe began a long-lasting time of relative yet unprecedented peace, and great prosperity.

That was when he lost all hopes. Perhaps the prophecy was wrong, inaccurate, a misunderstanding.

Still, as he drove past the Tor towards his house, he glanced at it with a smile. His curse and his spiritual home, the only tangible reminder of his true identity and a time long gone. This perhaps, he’d thought in the years, was what kept driving him back there – not the wait, but the memories. The lake too was gone, at some point in the centuries, leaving the tower on a solitary hill just outside an old town.

Magic had too disappeared with the lake. Merlin still had his own magic, he _was_ magic after all, but there was none left anywhere else – long gone were the times in which he could sense a connection between every living being and the earth. When the last drop of the Lake of Avalon was absorbed into the grass, the enchantment of the world faded in the sunlight, as if it never existed at all, only living in the stories each generation would tell the next one.

Merlin still thought about Arthur, some days, about the warmth of their friendship and their shared destiny, wondering if he would ever meet him again one day. However, he couldn’t deny that most days it just felt like a distant dream he once had. He only had Arthur in his life for a decade, and then he went on living without him for centuries, without any real proof that he even ever existed at all.

The truth was, most details he’d forgotten. Merlin still remember the bond they shared, how much he’d cared for Arthur and would have given everything to him and for him. He remembered some of the things they did together, some of Arthur’s personality traits – how much of a prat he was, as much as he was a great leader and a genuine friend– and flashes of old adventures that didn’t quite fit together anymore, like a puzzle whose pieces were lost.

But Arthur’s face, his voice, the smaller things? The sound of his steps up the stairs leading to his chambers, the way his hands would clench into fists when he was nervous but didn’t want to tell, the sigh of relief that would escape his lips when he found his knights alive after a battle? Barely a memory, a blurry picture in Merlin’s mind that had gradually faded with time until it was merely a shadow; a part of his soul, hidden so deep that he could no longer tell the difference with the rest of himself.

The one thing that never quite vanished was his love for Arthur, strong and fierce and playful and protective. If it was ever romantic, Merlin could never really tell. Some things didn’t even have the dignity of a name, back then. It was centuries after Arthur’s death that Merlin discovered men could love other men like that, and that he himself was prone to experiencing that kind of feeling. It was even longer before he could say it out loud without it being a death sentence.

And, by then, Arthur was long gone, and it made no sense to try and label what could never have been.

Merlin had loved Arthur deeply, and would love him again should the moment come, and that was all that mattered.

By the time he got home, the heavy rain wasn’t giving any sign of stopping. Not that he minded, now that the drive was over.

He’d purchased his current semi-detached house in Glastonbury after the war ended. His previous life, as he liked to call it, he spent almost entirely there, only briefly in London during his newly found youth to enjoy the Swinging Sixties. It was a peaceful little town, albeit a bit of a hipster cove going insane once a year for the festival, but he learned how to cope with that. In fact he quite liked the magic-themed shops that crowded the High Street, the windows full of dragons and fairies and legendary creatures that were long-extinct. It was all part of the memories the place evoked.

He moved full time to the capital in a few years ago when he started his newest and current identity, Emrys Marlin – quirky Gaelic-sounding name beat old sort-of-legendary identity, these days.

A smile grew wider on his face as he finally entered his old house. He hadn’t been there since last summer, so the air was heavy and on thickly cold. But the heating was ready to be turned on and the frozen pizza he’d just purchased on the way would be ready to eat in twenty minutes and he already knew what he wanted to watch on Netflix. He was, definitely, oh-so-ready for a quiet night in.


	2. Every inch of me is trembling (but not from the cold)

In this world that offered every type of comfort, Merlin absolutely loved the rain. As he lay in his freshly cleaned sheets under the heavy duvet, nothing was better than the rhythmic tap of raindrops on his bedroom windows to lull him to sleep.

The extremely loud, scorching thunder that seemingly tore the sky open out of the blue was unexpected. It hit just as he was about to drift off, so unbelievably close that light and sound reached him at the very same time. He sat up on the bed, eyes aghast.

The fluttering in his chest that followed straight after was scary. It started right below his heart, he could feel it right there, like a butterfly, an energy that slowly irradiated down his arms and his whole body.

He was so unaccustomed to the feeling these days that he briefly wondered if it was acid reflux.

But no.

This wasn’t his body being cross at his stomach for eating that pizza a bit too quickly.

As a second thunder hit the ground again, just as loud as the first one, he felt it clear as day. His magic was sparking inside him, his power climbing his soul in waves.

That is when he knew, he just knew, there and then, that his centuries-long wait was over.

Arthur was back. He could feel his presence in the world, somewhere, as tangible as the bed beneath him, getting stronger with every passing second.

_It can’t be._

He let himself panic for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes welling up with tears. Too many emotions, excitement, joy, fear, questions and doubts and incredulity, because the literal longest wait in history had finally come to an end and he was not prepared. He lifted his hands to cradle his head and forced himself to take a few slow breaths.

Inhale, hold, exhale. Repeat.

What now?

First of all he had to stop panicking. He was supposed to go and fetch Arthur, wherever he was. Quickly too.

He crawled outside of his bed and glanced out of the window, hoping just for a second that the king had conveniently showed up on his doorstep. Not only was he not there, the whole street appeared to be unusually dark.

Merlin tried flicking the lights on, only to realise electricity was gone. The signal on his phone was gone too.

He laughed, dryly and unexpectedly, shaking his head. Of course that huge _prat_ would make a show of his comeback. Loud thunders and a blackout. He could have come back at a more convenient time, perhaps on a warm, sunny afternoon in plain daylight, but no, he chose the coldest night of the season so far, while it was absolutely chucking it down outside, and Merlin was all warm and toasty in his bed wearing his cosiest pyjamas.

He put on his wellies and raincoat, grabbed the car keys and stormed out. He let his magic guide him closer to Arthur, down the main road. He knew where he was heading after a few minutes – the Tor. Obviously. He parked his car on the side of the road, emergency lights on, hoping nobody would drive up the lane at full speed, and continued the journey on foot up the hill.

He still struggled to believe he was actually going to meet Arthur again very soon. So many lonely nights spent dreaming of this moment, so many _years_ , rehearsing their second first meeting in his head, imagining what he would have said, done. And yet now that the time had come, Merlin wasn’t sure what to expect, the script in his head completely forgotten.

The valley was silent, every sound muffled by the heavy rain, dark and heavy with magic, in a way Merlin hadn’t felt in centuries. The whole air around him was sizzling in aftershock. Merlin climbed the hill using his phone as torch and taking extra care not to slip on the wet steps.

“Arthur?” he called out, glancing in every direction, trying to locate the other man. The king was here _somewhere_ ; he was sure of that. Inside the tower itself, perhaps, seeking shelter from the rain.

By the time Merlin reached the top of the hill, he was breathless from the climb and the emotion, his heart beating in his chest so hard he could feel it in his ears. With every step, every breath he took, his whole body trembled like the flickering flame of a burning candle.

With a shaking hand he tentatively lifted his phone from the path to light up the hollow entrance of the tower, ready to call out the king’s name again, but his breath died in his throat and his feet froze to the ground.

His search was over.

Arthur was there, right in front of his eyes, curled up against the corner of the room, stark naked and visibly trembling, squinting his eyes at the torch light and lifting a hand to shield his face from the brightness.

Merlin wanted to say something. He really did. He wanted to call out his name, first. He wanted to walk towards him, pull him into the tightest hug, tell him how glad he was he was back. Perhaps just this once Arthur would hug him back and they’d cry together, and their destiny could begin again.

Instead, he remained frozen on the spot, his brain seemingly disconnected from his mouth and limbs. The only thing he managed to do was accidentally drop his phone, which fell to the stony ground with a thud. Arthur seized the chance to run away.

“Wait, no, where are you going?!” Merlin shouted, hoping for a second that the king would stop and turn around. When it soon became clear that wasn’t the case, Merlin picked up his phone and began chasing Arthur down the hill on the other side, careful not to break his own neck in the process. The rain kept coming, heavy and loud, but the lights from the road and the town down the hill were finally back on.

“Arthur, stop!” he shouted again. As expected, the king didn’t stop; he was actually quite fast for someone who was just recently back from the dead and now running down a steep hill, barefoot, on wet stone steps. Though, given the total lack of clothing on his body, Merlin was somewhat glad this wasn’t a sunny afternoon after all, and that he wasn’t chasing Arthur down a hill full of tourists and sunbathers. 

He briefly thought he could stop him with magic, but the last thing he wanted was to frighten him further.

The chase came to an end by itself after Arthur tripped over something on the wet terrain, a sight that would have had Merlin laugh out loud if this were any other type of circumstance.

Merlin found the king a minute later, hidden under a tree on the side of the path, almost at the bottom of the hill, his knees drawn tight to his chest.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, softly, this time holding the torch above the king’s head rather than directly at his face. That face that had become a blurry shadow in Merlin’s memories was now back in full force in colour and details.

Arthur’s eyes, open wide and just as blue as they used to be, reminded Merlin of a deer on the side of the road – frightened, confused, out of place. The old Arthur always prided himself of his fearlessness and courage. Perhaps one day Merlin would be able to mock him a bit for this night.

For now, the one thing he wanted was to take him home.

“Arthur?” he repeated just as softly, kneeling in front of his friend. If Arthur recognised his own name or the voice that called it, he gave no sign of it. He was shaking like a leaf, his breath coming in short puffs condensing in front of his face.

Merlin moved the torch towards himself, lighting up his own face, and used his free hand to grab his hood and slide it all the way down. “Arthur, it’s me – Merlin.”

The rain seemed to soak his dark hair almost immediately, but that didn’t matter in the slightest, because something changed on Arthur’s face.

He blinked a few times in quick succession, his eyes quickly flicking all over Merlin’s face, studying, registering. Then he blinked again and suddenly his features were relaxing, his breathing slowing down.

Merlin rewarded his friend with the warmest smile. Arthur had recognised him.

To Merlin, it felt like time stopped for a second, as he struggled to fully realise that Arthur was really here, with him, after all these years. “It’s good to see you,” he whispered, feeling tears prickle his eyes.

He pushed them back.

Arthur was naked in the rain, visibly cold, and Merlin himself wasn’t getting any warmer. There would be time to cry later on once they were both dry.

Merlin stood up and reached out a hand towards his friend. “Let’s go home.”

Arthur glanced at the hand in front of him, then at Merlin’s face, then back at the hand. In the end, he got up without taking it.

For half a second, they stood in silence in front of one another, the rain pouring down relentlessly.

“Here, have mine,” Merlin said, instinctively unzipping his navy-blue raincoat as he realised they would need to walk back to the car and Arthur was only wearing his birthday suit. Merlin’s own clothes would probably be soaked wet by the time they reached the car, but it didn’t matter. His priority had suddenly become Arthur’s comfort, just like it had been the last time they met.

The cold air and rain hit him like a train as he helped Arthur into the coat and zipped it back up as high as it went, pulling up the hood, while the king let himself be dressed in silence, seemingly barely aware of his surroundings.

“Right, follow me,” Merlin announced as he started walking towards the road, crossing his arms to his chest in an attempt to retain body heat.

Arthur followed without saying a word. It occurred to Merlin, after a couple of minutes, that he was still to hear Arthur’s voice at all.

“I live nearby, it won’t get long to get there,” Merlin said trying to reassure his friend. “Then you can have a hot bath, how does that sound?”

No answer. Arthur was walking next to him, keeping up the pace, his eyes staring at the wet road beneath his bare feet.

“I’ll draw you one, just this once,” Merlin added with a smile, glancing at his side, desperate to make eye contact, to elicit a reaction, a sound, anything at all. Another failed attempt.

“You’ll like my house, I think… I’ve, uhm, recently redecorated it. Made it a bit more modern, you know?”

As if Arthur cared about interior décor.

“I don’t actually live here full time, I just drive down some weekends here and there to get out of the city.”

Silence.

“I live in London, now, I’ve got a nice flat there too. Actually, it’s a coincidence that I was down here this weekend, I-uh, I didn’t know you were coming. Not tonight anyway. You’re lucky. Once again I saved your royal arse.”

Merlin looked to his side again only to note no change at all in his friend.

Maybe it was okay, Merlin thought. Maybe centuries in the afterlife didn’t make anyone particularly chatty.

They’d get there. Hopefully.

They reached the car after a five-minute walk; the heavy shower had turned into a light drizzle. Merlin was glad to see his car was still exactly where he’d parked it and both side mirrors were still perfectly attached.

He glanced at Arthur; surely he had questions. None of these existed back when he was last alive.

Instead no questions came. Arthur was looking down once again, his teeth chattering, his hands shoved in the coat pockets. For the first time Merlin wondered if something was seriously wrong.

“It’s a car,” he started. “I’ll explain to you tomorrow? How it works?”

Once again no reaction.

Merlin opened the back door and gestured for Arthur to get in. Much to his surprise, Arthur let himself slump in the back seat without saying a word. Dripping wet, as was Merlin.

Not that it mattered, at this point.

Arthur’s first actual reaction came as Merlin began the short drive home – a gasp, unmistakably fearful, coming from the back seat, loud enough to reach Merlin’s ears.

He glanced at Arthur through the rear mirror, noticing the frightened deer eyes were back.

“It’s okay,” Merlin whispered once again, reaching back with his left hand between the front seats. “You’re okay, trust me. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

This time, Arthur grabbed the hand that was offered to him. Tightly. Hanging on to it as if his life depended on it.

Merlin winced at the strength of the grip, and the coldness of Arthur’s skin. As cold as the last time he’d touched him, when he slowly caressed his forehead after laying his lifeless body down on the boat.

He shook his head to push the memory away. Funny how, with all the happy moments he and Arthur went through together, the most vivid memory in Merlin’s brain was the day Arthur died.

He kept holding onto Arthur’s grip until the hand was needed back to change gears.

The second they got home, Merlin’s instinct to keep Arthur safe kicked in even stronger. Merlin himself was soaked wet through his clothes and into his wellies, but he didn’t matter now. He’ll warm up later. Arthur had to come first. He put the heating on full power and helped Arthur out of the raincoat.

“It’s warmer in here already, isn’t it?” Merlin said with a smile, kicking away his wellies. His socks were wet too. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Arthur followed him in silence, as he’d done outside, both men dripping and leaving water tracks on the floor. If Arthur was aware he was fully naked, he didn’t care. Merlin had seen him naked countless times before, after all.

When Merlin handed Arthur the largest towel, Arthur accepted it eagerly and started brushing it along his body, both to dry it and to generate some heat with the friction.

“Come, you can sit here,” Merlin said, leading Arthur to the only bedroom. The bed was still unmade from Merlin’s earlier attempt at sleep, before he had to rush out. He wanted to prevent Arthur’s bare arse to touch the clean sheets, he wanted to put down a towel first, but Arthur was quicker and casually sat down on the bed, using the towel to dry up his legs. Never mind then.

Merlin grabbed his throw blanket and draped it around Arthur’s shoulders.

“Use this for now, yes? I need to change too, and then I’ll draw you a bath. Okay?”

Arthur didn’t even look up, too busy rubbing his hair with the towel. Merlin nodded to himself. Maybe he should just shut up.

After peeling his own soaked clothes away from his body and putting on a large hoodie and the first pair of trousers he could grab, he quickly walked back to the bedroom, towelling his own hair carelessly.

Arthur was now sitting in the middle of the bed, curled up on himself, the blanket all around his frame. His hands were touching one another in front of his face, fidgeting in a way, perhaps looking for a ring that was no longer there.

At least he’s stopped shaking, Merlin noticed.

“Are you ready for a hot bath?”

Merlin’s voice didn’t manage to get Arthur’s attention, at all. He walked closer to the bed until his knees touched the mattress.

“Arthur?”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up. He responded to his own name, then. It was the only proof Merlin had that his friend, his king, was in there somewhere.

“I’m drawing you a bath,” Merlin said, slowly, nodding at the door. “Come.”

He did.

Arthur stepped carefully into the bathtub, full of hot soapy water, hot enough to soothe his freezing skin, not hot enough to burn him.

Merlin watched as Arthur lowered himself into the water with a low sigh, closing his eyes, leaning his head against the edge of the tub. For the first time of the night, Arthur looked at peace, and Merlin decided to leave him that, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it, okay? The towel is here, just come to the bedroom when you’re done. I’ll- Uh, I’ll find you some clothes.”

Right, clothes, Merlin thought anxiously. He hadn’t packed that much stuff, only a few things for himself to last a couple of days. He managed to dig out of the wardrobe an old pyjama set that his older self used to wear a few years ago, the loosest one he owned. A beautiful silky blue, the same colour of Arthur’s eyes.

Now that he saw them again, Merlin couldn’t believe he had forgotten that colour.

He brought the pyjamas shirt to his nose to make sure it didn’t smell too bad, then lay it out on top of the bed.

The only bed in the whole house. Merlin had already accepted he’d have to give that up and get the sofa instead, for now at least. There was a second bedroom in the house, but back then he’d thought it was best used as a closet and “reading room” instead. In hindsight, not his wisest decision.

In London he had even less space, but he would need to think about these types of issue in another moment. One thing at a time.

After the clothes were placed, Merlin fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, one of those tall ones made for soft drinks, and placed it on the nightstand.

Arthur came back several minutes later, tentatively walking into the bedroom without bothering to hide his modesty behind a towel. His skin had regained a beautiful golden glow, blended with the reddish blush on his cheeks and chest from the hot water. His hair, towelled dry, was sticking out in every direction, some residual drops running shyly down his nape.

He sat on the bed, his hands joined in his lap, waiting, his eyes lost somewhere in the void in front of him.

“I found these pyjamas that I think will fit you,” Merlin said, pointing at the set of clothes next to Arthur. “Death hasn’t made you any thinner, has it.”

He snickered after his own joke, suddenly remembering he used to tease his king about his weight all the time. Arthur would bite back, or punch him on the arm, or throw something at him.

Not tonight.

The joke, like everything else Merlin had said that night, went right above Arthur’s head.

Instead, Arthur just glanced at the clothes, and then back at Merlin. The warlock skipped a breath, cherishing the rare eye contact, getting lost for a second in those blue eyes, how beautifully sad and somehow _empty_ they looked.

They used to be full of life. Of courage, happiness, love.

Arthur broke the contact after a moment, redirecting his gaze to his own feet, and Merlin breathed again.

“You want me to dress you, don’t you?” Merlin asked softly, no longer waiting for a reply which he knew was not coming. “Right, here we go, _lazy arse_ – just this once, yes?” he continued, grabbing the pyjama bottoms. “Just because we’re friends.”

He kneeled down in front of Arthur, helping him inside the trousers first, and in the pyjama shirt as well, lovingly buttoning it up to the top. Merlin didn’t need to give any instructions at all, it was like an old dance they’d choreographed a long time ago and rehearsed over and over again. Of all the tasks he used to perform as a servant, dressing and undressing the king was always one of his favourites. He hoped Arthur was enjoying the silky feeling against his skin, it wasn’t a type of cloth they had back then. It was the expensive kind too. Plus, it was always a bit too big on Merlin, so it fit Arthur just fine.

“There you go, all sorted,” Merlin said, satisfied with himself, his lips curling up in a smile, as he smoothed the shirt over Arthur's shoulders.

How he wanted to reach out and pull the man in front of him in the warmest hug he was capable of – ruffle his hair, cup his cheeks, kiss his forehead. Anything to bring the tiniest hint of a smile on that beautiful face of his.

Instead, he grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled it back open, more than it already was, a simple gesture that he used to do all the time, and Arthur settled inside, pulling his legs up and under the duvet. He rubbed a hand on the bottom sheet, silently marvelling at the softness of it.

Merlin placed the duvet back on Arthur’s legs and passed him the glass of water. “You should drink some water, it’s-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence that Arthur grabbed the glass from his hands, drinking voraciously, all half pint of it in a handful of seconds, so messily that some droplets streamed down the corners of his mouth.

Merlin gaped at him. “If you were so thirsty, you could have said so. I’ll fill this back for you, so you have it overnight.” He took the empty glass from Arthur’s hands. “Are you hungry too? I can get you some food, I don’t have much but I bought some fruit earlier.”

Arthur didn’t respond. This time, Merlin sighed.

“I don’t need you to speak,” he said. “Just nod your head.”

No reaction.

“Arthur? Are you hungry?”

His name had once again elicited a reaction, had grabbed his attention, but he still wasn’t answering the question. Merlin frowned; it was a bit as if Arthur couldn’t-

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

Merlin mentally kicked himself – he was speaking a version of English that Arthur had never known. Wow, perhaps there really was no limit to his own idiocy, Merlin thought.

He searched in his head for something in their old shared language, a word, a sentence, anything would do, but nothing came to mind. In the centuries he’d learned French, and Italian, and German, and currently he was picking up some Polish on Duolingo, and his English had naturally evolved to fit the changing times.

He could not remember at all how he used to speak back in Camelot.

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin said. “I’ll find a spell, okay? So you can learn this language, and we can talk.”

As he ran downstairs to get more water and some grapes, Merlin realised Arthur had never understood anything he’d ever been told that night. He’d only trusted Merlin based on their old relationship. Merlin’s voice, his face, his smiles, those had done the job.

Back in the bedroom, Arthur had laid down and rolled on his side, facing the window, the duvet pulled up to his chin. Merlin took this as a way of saying he wasn’t hungry after all. He placed the refilled bottle and the bowl with grapes on the nightstand, mentally making an effort once again to retrieve a way of saying good night with words Arthur would understand.

He couldn’t. All had been lost in time.

“Right, water is here, and I got you some grapes too – seedless ones,” he said instead to Arthur’s back. Not that Arthur would understand. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

The last thing he saw before switching the lights off and shutting the bedroom door was Arthur curling up further into himself and slowly closing his eyes.

With the click of the door, Merlin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

As he finally took an overdue shower, all the stress, all the built-up emotion and concern and joy and fear, all of that came out the second the hot spray hit his skin.

He didn’t even try to hold back his tears.

A day that had started out as an average, uneventful Friday, had turned into the day he’d been hopelessly waiting for fifteen hundred years. And the memories, oh, the memories of Arthur, some of the things that Merlin believed were lost forever, had suddenly flooded his mind the moment he set his eyes on him.

Arthur was back, he was sleeping in the other room in some of Merlin’s old clothes, they were so close again and yet so distant. Arthur had come all of a sudden into a world he didn’t know, where nothing was familiar, where everything was bright and loud, and Merlin had been talking nonsense to him the whole evening, _idiot_. He should have done better. He should have been prepared. He should have kept his original native language fresh in his mind. He should have provided water straight away.

He did wonder why Arthur hadn’t said anything about the language barrier, nothing along the lines of “you’re talking gibberish you idiot!”. Merlin let that and many more questions crowd his mind. Where was Arthur this whole time? How long had it been for him? Was he aware of the changes the world had gone through? Did he know why he is back, had anyone told him before they sent him here?

He imagined Arthur had just as many questions for him. He looked so lost, afraid, nothing like the fearless knight he’d known. Merlin’s heart ached for him because all Arthur needed was probably a friend and some words of comfort, of explanation, and Merlin had managed to do only half of it.

They’d chat tomorrow, perhaps, once Merlin managed to retrieve the right spell. Centuries ago he would have just known what to say, he could have done the spell there and then; now, his mind needed refreshing.

He let tears stream down his face the whole time he was under the shower, soothed by the warm water gently caressing his body, glad the rumble of the pipes was there to cover his sobs. He wasn’t sure when exactly the joy overtook the fear, but at some point he realised a smile had creeped up on his face.

Arthur was back. No matter what, he was back now as his stunningly beautiful old self, and Merlin was sure his arrogant old self was in there too somewhere.

They had time to figure things out.

*

It didn’t take long for Merlin to find the spell he was looking for. He might not use magic that often these days, but he still knew where to look. The spare room in the house was where he kept some of those ancient volumes that time had covered in dust, at the back of the upper shelf of his large bookcase.

He should perhaps create a spreadsheet with the most-used spells, he thought.

As much as he hated the idea of doing a spell on Arthur without his consent, he also realised there was no other way out. Merlin tiptoed quietly to the bedroom, in the dark; the creaking of the wooden floor muffled by the thick carpet covering. Arthur was asleep on his back now, breathing, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, _alive_. Merlin found himself smiling fondly as he looked down on him.

He reached out his arm, his hand hovering just above Arthur’s head, ready to pronounce the spell, when Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he instinctively grabbed Merlin’s wrist as to stop him. Merlin winced; Arthur’s grip was strong enough to hurt.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this,” Merlin whispered, hoping his voice would comfort his king some more. He reached with his other hand to touch Arthur’s forearm, silently asking him to let go. “Trust me.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered in the dark room, from his own hand, tight around Merlin’s wrist, to Merlin’s eyes. That was when he let go, pulling up to lean on his elbows. 

Merlin mentally thanked him for the blind trust, holding the eye contact as he softly whispered the enchanted words.

His eyes glowed gold for a moment, and Arthur’s mouth fell agape as he held his breath.

“There, all done,” Merlin whispered. “Go back to sleep now, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Just as Merlin was about to leave, Arthur released his breath in a quivering pant. “Your eyes.”

A shiver ran down Merlin’s back at the sound of Arthur’s voice. It was raspy, and tentative, and Merlin would have wanted to keep him talking all night long just to hear it again and again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said instead. He left before Arthur could reply – it was almost 3 am they both desperately needed some sleep.


	3. I can sense you there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your support so far :) I think this chapter is going to set the tone of the story a bit more. Just as FYI, this is a Merthur story, but I do think canon-wise Arthur was truly in love with Gwen. So that will come out, probably more than some of you would like. I hope you trust the journey xx
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter:  
> -suicidal thoughts (non-explicit)

In the morning, after managing to get only a couple of hours sleep having spent the night tossing and turning on his tiny sofa, Merlin’s eyes fluttered open and the first thing he thought was that he’d dreamed everything.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

But, on the other hand, he was indeed on his sofa, where he wouldn’t have been if the bed upstairs hadn’t been occupied by someone else.

It was all true, then. Not a dream. Arthur was really there, alive, upstairs.

As he sat up, rubbing his eyes on his fists, Merlin debated what to do next, wait for the king to come down or go wake him up, check on him. He ended up waiting downstairs for a while, a warm cup of tea in his hands, before concern took over. As much as he would have liked to let Arthur sleep, Merlin needed to check whether he was okay, talk to him after the events of the previous night.

The water and mud tracks they left the previous night went all the way from the front door to the upper floor, another sign that everything happened for real. The bedroom door was shut, just like Merlin had left it a few hours earlier. He knocked twice before twisting the handle.

“Arthur?” he called softly, the door only half open, expecting to find Arthur buried under the duvet in the middle of a dark room.

Instead, Arthur was standing in front of the window, his hands behind his back, his eyes following the raindrops along the glass. He looked focused; his military stance reminded Merlin of those days in Camelot right before a battle.

“Oh, you’re up already,” Merlin said. A moment of silence followed, in which he wondered whether something outside had really caught Arthur’s attention, or if he was just lost in his thoughts. “Don’t think too much, you know it’s not good for you,” he joked then, closely observing his friend’s face, reflected in the window, hoping to see a change of sorts, a smile perhaps.

That was when Arthur finally spoke.

“We’re not in Camelot,” he said. The view from the window was quite anonymous, really, Merlin knew it could have been any road in England. A series of semi-detached houses, built with dark red bricks, a road with a bunch of cars parked on the side, green fields in the background. A very common view that was all but familiar to Arthur.

“No… we’re not in Camelot,” Merlin agreed. “Do you want to come downstairs? I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Where are we then?” Arthur asked, ignoring his friend’s question.

Merlin debated for a second how to answer this. “Glastonbury… it’s the town’s name. That’s where Avalon-“

“That’s where you wanted to take me, isn’t it?” Arthur interrupted. “The Lake of Avalon. You wanted to take me there before I…”

Neither of them could finish the sentence. Merlin just nodded, his heart aching in his chest at the memory of that day. “Yes.”

Silence fell again in the room as Arthur took a moment to process the information. Merlin sat on the unmade bed behind him, staring at Arthur’s large frame, the bright light from the window blurring softly over the silky blue pyjamas.

“You need to take me to Camelot. Today. Prepare the horses,” Arthur stated.

“I-I can’t do that,” Merlin replied. He knew this was a conversation they were going to have at some point.

“Why not?” Arthur asked, spinning on his heels to face Merlin. “Don’t you keep hor-“

His voice died in his throat all of a sudden, as a new awareness seemed to hit him. He glanced out of the window again, and then all around the room.

“Time has passed, hasn’t it?” he asked in a whisper, studying the soft carpet under his feet. “Camelot has a new king now.”

“That’s not why we can’t go there… not exactly.”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up, confused, a frown appearing across his eyebrows. “Why is it then?”

This time it was Merlin who couldn’t hold the inquisitive gaze. “Why don’t we go downstairs, eat something? I’ll tell you the-“

“No. You tell me now. It’s an order.”

And Merlin did. He told him about the prophecy, how it came true unexpectedly after fifteen hundred years. He told him that Camelot no longer existed, and that was why they could never go back there again. Arthur took it all in, in silence, hiding his distress behind a façade of strength, betrayed only by the way he nervously clenched his jaw and his hands in fists at his sides.

“So it wasn’t you? It wasn’t your sorcery that brought me back?” Arthur asked after listening to the whole story.

Merlin shook his head. Had he been able to do that, he would have brought Arthur back straight away, when his magic was still at peak power.

“And how long did you say it’s been?”

“Fifteen hundred years,” Merlin repeated. “Give or take.”

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly. “Right.”

“It’s quite a big number, are you sure you can count that far ahead?” Merlin joked. He could understand it was a lot of information to take, but he just wanted to make Arthur smile, nothing else.

Arthur ignored the attempt, like he had ignored all the others before.

“Where is the war, then?” he asked instead. “This doesn’t look like a battlefield. When is the enemy expected to reach us?”

This time it was Merlin’s turn to frown. “What?”

“The war. The prophecy said I would return when Albion’s need was greatest, you told me that a minute ago,” Arthur clarified, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Or have you forgotten already?”

“I haven’t, no, but-“

“Then where is this war? Where am I needed?” Arthur began pacing around the room, his hands again in fists behind his back. Seeing Merlin’s lack of response, he sighed. “I don’t expect you to know, just tell me who is in charge, I’ll speak to him.”

“There is no war.”

Arthur’s pacing stopped abruptly. “What do you mean? The prophecy is clear.”

“I know what the prophecy says, but there is no war. There has been no war on Albion’s soil for the past seventy years.”

Well, there had been episodes of civil unrest, and British troops were involved overseas, but Merlin wouldn’t classify either as Albion’s _greatest_ need. He also made a quick mental note to teach Arthur some modern geography as soon as possible.

“Then _why_ am I here?”

Merlin was brought back to reality at the hint of distress in Arthur’s voice. The former king was staring at him wide-eyed, requesting an explanation that Merlin was unable to provide.

“I don’t know. Maybe something is coming,” was really the best answer Merlin could find.

Hopelessness seemed to cloud Arthur’s features, who lost the façade for a second. He glanced down, nodding to himself. “That would be all.”

The last thing Merlin wanted was to be pushed away. “If you don’t want to come downstairs I can bring you some breakfast here?”

“I said that would be all,” Arthur repeated firmly.

“As you wish, Sire,” Merlin replied out of habit.

Back in the kitchen, Merlin switched the kettle on and filled a bowl with granola and Greek yogurt for himself. 

He did wonder, last night, why Arthur had been brought back, why now of all times. Merlin had always thought that, should there be another large-scale war, it would either be a cyber war of sorts, or a nuclear one, and in both cases Arthur would be fairly useless. Something else was probably coming their way and neither of them was prepared.

It was another half hour before Arthur finally went downstairs and into the kitchen, his steps heavy but tentative, his eyes scanning the room, flicking from one unknown appliance to the other. Merlin waited for Arthur to ask questions about what those devices were and where they came from; instead, Arthur slumped down on a chair around the table without a word, his arms crossed on the table.

“I take it you’re hungry now?” Merlin asked, offering a smile. “I don’t have Camelot’s array of breakfast choices, but this granola is really tasty.”

He pushed the box towards Arthur, who eyed it unconvinced.

“Or,” Merlin added. “I can make you some toast with jam? Or I have instant oats, if you prefer.”

He opened the cupboard above the sink to retrieve the bag of sliced bread he’d got the day before, and some spare sachets of instant oats. Turning them in his hands, he briefly wondered if they had an expiry date, he really couldn’t remember when he’d purchased them.

“Merlin,” Arthur called. The sound of his name was like a siren to Merlin; it had been almost a millennium since anyone called him that, his true name, the one his mother gave him. He closed cupboard and faced Arthur with full attention.

“Yes, Sire.”

“You have to take me back.”

“Back?”

“Yes. I want you to take me back.”

Arthur’s eyes were firm in his request, his hands now steadily joined on the table. Merlin sighed, walking closer to him.

“I can’t, Camelot doesn’t-“

“I don’t mean Camelot.”

The awareness behind Arthur’s words sunk down on Merlin like a stone. He shook his head fast, colour being washed from his face making him paler than he already was. “No.”

“It’s an order, Merlin.”

“I can’t- I can’t.” Merlin was trembling, his voice barely more than a whisper, and yet Arthur remained impossibly calm, as if he hadn’t just asked his best friend send him back to the afterlife.

“You’re the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk earth, aren’t you?” Arthur challenged him. “There _must_ be something you can do.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t play with life and death. I won’t.”

Arthur sighed, letting his head sag between his shoulders. “Still incapable of doing anything, I see.”

Merlin took a deep breath to help ease the knot in his throat and took one more step closer to Arthur, his hand stretching towards him, wondering if a simple touch could provide any type of comfort to his king. Then, he retreated it.

“Arthur, listen to me,” he said instead. “I know you’re in shock, but the prophecy-“

“You don’t understand!” Arthur stood up abruptly, the chair dragging loudly on the floor behind him, making Merlin jump back out of reflex. “I can’t be here, I don’t belong here, I need to go back!”

“Look, the prophecy said…” Merlin started in an attempt to calm him down, but Arthur scoffed.

“Your prophecy was wrong!” Arthur’s cheeks were flushed red now, his eyes flashing in anger. Merlin realised he’d never seen Arthur angry like this before. “There is no war to fight, there was a mistake.”

“Listen to me, the prophecy is never wrong, you’re here for a reason!”

“No, you listen to me!” One large step and Arthur was facing Merlin, barely a foot away. “I was the King, and I died in battle with _honour_.”

“You are the Once and Future king…”

“No, do you want to know what I am? Do you, Merlin?!” Arthur pointed a finger at his friend’s face. “I am a nobody, alive while…”

Arthur’s voice died in his throat and his eyes, previously wide with ire, now revealed something different beneath.

Pain.

Grief.

He took a step back.

“…while my kingdom has fallen, and my people are… dead… my wife, my friends… everyone…”

His eyes welled up with tears, the sound of his trembling voice getting smaller and smaller with each word.

“…I want to be with them… _please_ …”

Merlin’s heart shattered in a thousand pieces at the plea as Arthur brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes, hunching over himself, making himself smaller. He turned around, away from Merlin, in a last attempt to hide his emotions from him.

“You’re dismissed,” he croaked out.

As he stared at Arthur’s back, spasming with repressed sobs, Merlin tasted salty in his own mouth. He could feel Arthur’s sorrow in his bones, a pang in his stomach, like it was his own.

“Arthur, don’t…” Merlin whispered, tentatively leaning his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur shook it away with a quick movement, enough for Merlin to flinch away, burned, but not enough to make him desist completely.

Merlin wiped his own tears away on his sleeve and walked around Arthur until he was standing in front of him, desperate to try again, desperate to provide some sort of comfort. The king’s eyes might have been still hidden by his hand, but his lips were twisted, and tears were running all the way to his chin.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered again, raising his hand once again to touch Arthur’s arm, just below his shoulder.

He didn’t know whether it was the simple touch, or having Merlin so close in front of him, but a mere second later Arthur crashed his head against Merlin’s shoulder, his hand still covering his eyes, the movement so sudden that they almost lost their balance.

Nevertheless, Merlin’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s shaking frame almost out of instinct, overtaken by an outburst of tenderness.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Merlin chanted over and over again like a mantra as sobs kept rippling through Arthur’s body almost rhythmically. Merlin thought it was fitting for him to cry so strongly, with his whole body, and yet barely making any sound. 

The warlock’s hand travelled higher along Arthur’s back, soothing, until it reached his head, cradling it as the most precious thing in the world, his palm tickled by blond hair. Almost in response Arthur finally let his own hand drop from his face and reached around Merlin instead, pulling him even closer to complete their embrace, fitting his chin on Merlin’s shoulder.

“It was good, wherever I was…” Arthur whispered, his voice so broken it was barely recognisable. “I was safe… loved, respected… my-my Gwen was there… I want to be with her.”

Merlin tightened the hug even more, unable to find any words to comfort, letting his actions speak instead. His thumb casually stroked Arthur’s head right behind his ear.

Arthur cried, and Merlin held him as if that was his sole purpose in life.

Gradually, after what could have been one minute or one hour, the sobs became weaker and less frequent, until they stopped altogether.

“I am the King of Camelot, and I want to be with my people,” Arthur said more firmly.

“The people of Albion need you here, now.”

_I need you here, now._

Those words changed something in Arthur. Slowly he pulled away, the cold air of the room hitting both their bodies where they were joined before. Merlin had never seen Arthur like this, so vulnerable, so raw, so _human_ – his blue eyes puffy from crying, red with blood, his cheeks wet with tears. At his lowest moment, Arthur, the Once and Future king, a strong and brave knight, had entrusted Merlin, fully and totally, with his weaknesses and fears, had let him in, allowed him to provide comfort and security.

Merlin was nothing but grateful.

“My whole life has been tied to Camelot… as prince, as king… now she doesn’t even _exist_ anymore, then who am I? Who am I, Merlin?”

One last tear rolled graciously down Arthur’s cheek as he spoke.

A thousand possible answers crowded Merlin’s head, so many ways to reply to that question. _You’re Arthur. You’re my king. You’re my friend. You’re the Once and Future king. You’re my destiny._

He didn’t voice any of them.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said instead. “We will.”

Arthur nodded, taking a step back to put further space between them.

“Can you promise me one thing?” he said, sniffling. “When I’ve completed the quest… done whatever I was brought here to do… will you help me go back?”

If Arthur had stabbed him it would have hurt less, Merlin thought.

And yet, as their eyes met, he could feel Arthur’s pain, his overwhelming sorrow, and he knew there was nothing he could deny to his king, no matter how painful for himself. How unfortunately odd, he thought, that the same thing that caused immense joy to Merlin, the very event he’d been waiting for fifteen thousand years, was destroying Arthur’s heart and soul.

“I promise,” he forced himself to say. His own eyes were stinging but he blinked back the tears.

The corners of Arthur’s mouth twitched up slightly as he dried his eyes on his wrists. “Thank you.”

Merlin bowed his head, both out of habit and of eternal loyalty. Whatever it took. Arthur was here, now, they were together again after too long, and Merlin would just enjoy it and make the most out of it. When the time would come, he would grant Arthur’s wish, one way or the other.

“I’m glad you’re my partner in this quest, Merlin. I don’t think I could do it without you,” Arthur added.

“You’re right, you probably couldn’t,” Merlin agreed, a remark that earned him a friendly punch on his shoulder and spread the widest grin on his face. He had missed this more than he believed.

“And, Merlin? What just happened…” Arthur waved his hand in the space between himself and Merlin, struggling for the right words. “My… that, uh…”

“That very understandable display of human emotions?” Merlin supplied.

“Mention it ever again and I’ll make you regret it.”

“Yes, Sire.” As if Merlin could ever make fun of Arthur for needing a hug in a miserable moment. As if he wasn’t going to cherish that memory, the memory of their first hug while both of them were alive, as a memory most precious. “Though, you know, things have changed now. These days it’s okay to hug your friends,” Merlin added with a smirk.

Arthur rolled his eyes almost _loudly_. “You’re still such a _girl_ , aren’t you Merlin? What is it with you and hugs anyway?”

“I’m just saying, it’s socially acceptable.” Merlin wasn’t going to dive into the concept of toxic masculinity just yet, there were more pressing things that Arthur needed to learn about the twenty-first century, but he hoped there would be enough time for all the chats about any type of topic.

“Just get me some breakfast, will you,” Arthur ordered, slumping back on a chair. “I’m starving.”

Merlin was just glad, for now, to have his friend back, even the least affectionate, most arrogant bits of him. Appetite was always a good sign. Given that Arthur didn’t express any preference, Merlin decided to go for instant oats, a mild flavour that Arthur would probably enjoy – food wasn’t that tasty in medieval Britain.

As he poured the sachet of oats into a bowl, followed by milk, he got just a bit excited at the idea of Arthur getting to know this world, the science, the culture, the _possibilities_. He smiled to himself, the spoon clinking against the bowl as he stirred the oats. He imagined Arthur trying sushi, or hummus, or even coffee. What type of films would he enjoy, Merlin wondered, what type of music.

He was so lost in his thoughts, popping the bowl in the microwave, that he didn’t notice Arthur was standing once again next to him, leaning on the counter, eyes fixed on Merlin’s face.

“Your eyes didn’t glow,” Arthur said, bringing Merlin back to reality.

“My eyes?”

“They glow. Last night, you did a spell on me, they were glowing.”

Merlin bit his lower lip, feeling guilty that he still hadn’t explained to Arthur what happened the previous night. “I needed to do that, I needed to give us a common language. To speak. This is the language people use here these days,” he explained.

“I got that much. Why did your eyes glow last night, but not now?” Arthur asked, gesturing towards the microwave.

Merlin’s eyes followed the gesture, and suddenly the real issue became clear. “This… this isn’t magic.”

“I’m not stupid, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms to his chest. “That bowl is spinning in there, by itself.”

“It’s not magic,” Merlin repeated.

Arthur’s expression seemed to soften. “I’m okay with it, with magic, you know. It’s done a lot of good, I see it now, and obviously…” he glanced all around the room. “Obviously it’s everywhere in these times. I’m ready to embrace it.”

Merlin smiled at those words. Even after centuries, it was still good to hear Arthur had accepted him for who he was, no more, no less.

“Thank you,” he said. The microwaved beeped twice. Merlin gave the oats a stir and popped it back in some more seconds. “But it really isn’t magic.”

“What is it then?”

Merlin looked at the porridge rising inside the bowl and listened to the low humming of the microwave. Sometimes it still amazed him too. “It’s genius.”

He glanced at Arthur, noticing how he looked even more confused than before, his brows furrowed.

“I’ll explain later,” Merlin added, just as the microwave beeped again. “You’re in for a treat.”

He carefully placed the hot bowl on the table as Arthur sat back down. He glanced at Merlin, then at the bowl, then at Merlin again.

“Is this all? No cheese, no meat?” he asked in a demanding tone. “This is _servants’_ food, it’s not the right breakfast for a king!”

“Well, you’re not a king, are you,” Merlin teased.

As soon as he pronounced those words, a shadow clouded Arthur’s face and Merlin realised how mean he’d sounded.

“You can still try the granola, if you want,” he added quickly, nodding at the yellow box still on the table. “Or I have fruit, do you want some?”

Arthur shook his head, mindlessly stirring the steaming oats. “This will do.” He brought a first spoonful to his mouth.

“I’ll get you meat and cheese for tomorrow, okay? Or anything else you want.”

“You'd better treat that as paramount priority.”

*

He’d faced worse challenges in his very long life, but he was dreading this moment nonetheless. However, he also knew it was both inevitable and of paramount importance, something he’d have to face sooner rather than later, so he thought it best to get it out of the way straight away.

“This is the toilet,” Merlin explained, his hand pointing down at the object he was describing. “This is where you… relieve yourself.”

Arthur was standing beside him, his eyes following Merlin’s hand, mentally taking notes. “Right. Both to pee and…?”

“Both, yes.”

Arthur nodded, humming in understanding.

“If you go get the glass, I’ll show you the next steps,” Merlin added. Upon entering the bedroom that morning, he’d noticed that Arthur had drank all the water and then used the empty glass as a chamber pot of sorts.

Arthur scoffed. “You go get the glass.”

“It’s your urine.”

“It’s your job to _dispose_ of it.”

Merlin winced in revulsion at the memory. Emptying the chamber pot was the worst part of being a servant, even worse than mucking out the stables. “It _was_ my job. People take care of their own bodily functions these days.”

Arthur sighed in a loud, theatrical way, as a last attempt to get Merlin to do the dirty work. After he realised his effort had failed, he went to retrieve the glass and emptied it in the toilet, accompanying the gesture by a loud disgusted moan and a gagging motion thrown in for good measure. Merlin made a mental note to throw that glass in the rubbish before it could accidentally be used for anything else.

“So once you’re done, you press this button here,” Merlin explained, proceeding to demonstrate. The water cascaded down under Arthur’s surprised gaze. “And there you go, all flushed away.”

“And you’re telling me this isn’t magic?”

“It isn’t, it’s a system of pipes operated thanks to gravity.”

Arthur didn’t even pretend he had understood a single word of what he was just told. He proceeded to press the button again, just like Merlin had done a second earlier.

“Then why does it not work when I do it?” he asked petulantly when barely any water at all came down.

“You can’t flush twice in a row, it needs to reload. You have to wait a minute.”

“Chamber pots are easier and more convenient.”

Merlin almost laughed. “Trust me, once you get used to this you’ll never want to go back.” He then pointed at the loo roll hanging on the wall behind the toilet. “We use that for wiping. Then you flush everything.”

He winced in disgust again at Arthur’s question, “wipe? why would I wipe?”, as he silently thanked his old brain for forgetting those details about living in the Middle Ages. “Just give it a try, you won’t be disappointed,” he muttered.

Next, he briefly explained what the toilet brush was for, making Arthur’s eyes go wide in sudden awareness.

“This is to clean _poop_? I used it last night to wash my back!” he said halfway between angry and embarrassed, his cheeks turning a funny shade of pink.

Merlin’s explosion of surprised laughter made it even worse. “You used the toilet brush to wash your back?!”

“It’s not as if you have other brushes in here!” Arthur reiterated, growing redder by the second. “You should have told me not to use it!”

“You weren’t talking to me!”

“You were speaking gibberish!”

“You should have told me you couldn’t understand a word of what I was saying!”

At that, Arthur looked down, and Merlin’s laughter subsided for good.

“I was…” Arthur mumbled, running a hand up and down his own arm. “I wasn’t sure anything was real at all.”

Merlin patted his shoulder twice, trying to lighten up the atmosphere again. They’d had enough serious talk for the day. “Now you know that brush is not to be used on your body.”

Merlin then proceeded to explain how to operate the bathtub and shower head. He watched with fascination the wonder in Arthur’s eyes, the way they grew wider as he put a hand under the running water and felt it go from cold to hot in less than a minute.

“And it isn’t magic,” Arthur said, almost to himself more than anything else, as his other hand played with the tap and got the water to run cold again, then hot, then cold.

“It’s not,” Merlin said with a smile. “Nothing has magic here… just me.”

He let Arthur experiment a few more seconds before closing off the water. The talk on bills and environmental issues would come another time, though.

They then moved on to the sink. Merlin was busy explaining why the sink had two taps instead of one, “so your hands either get so cold you lose mobility, or you burn your skin off”, until he noticed Arthur had stopped listening and was now focused on his own reflection in the mirror.

“It’s a very vivid reflection,” Arthur said, touching his hair still messy from the night. The mirrors in Camelot used to be quite grainy. “I look good for someone who’s just back from the dead.”

Merlin had to press his lips together to stop himself from agreeing to that statement.

“Your new haircut looks good too,” Arthur added, gesturing at Merlin’s reflection. “Covers up the ears.”

 _Prat_.

“Too bad nothing can cover your _toad face_ ,” Merlin snapped back. Though if he was honest with himself, he was letting his dark curls grow a bit longer to better frame his face, and yes, cover his ears too. Overall, he liked unruly mop of curls better than short straight hair. 

His comment, however, earned him a playful slap on the back of his head.

“Back to manhandling, I see,” Merlin said, bringing his head to the tender spot and pretending to be more in pain than he actually was.

“Horseplay.”

Finally, Merlin moved on to the last lesson in the bathroom.

“This is to brush your teeth,” he said, holding his toothbrush. “With this.” He held up his tube of toothpaste and squeezed some on the toothbrush, before proceeding with a practical demonstration under Arthur’s inquisitive gaze.

After rinsing his mouth, Merlin was just about to tell Arthur to do the same, when he realised he didn’t have a spare toothbrush.

“I’ll get you one,” he said.

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t really see the point in doing this.”

“Trust me, it’s nice and minty. You’ll like it,” Merlin said. He briefly wondered how terrible their breath must have been back then, yet one more memory he was glad to have removed.

It also became clear to Merlin that there was a number of things he needed to get today, and the more he thought about it, the more things he added to the list. Food first. Then a toothbrush. Then clothes – underwear, socks, shoes, a jacket.

Then of course Arthur was going to need an identity. A passport, a national insurance number, some sort of school record, a medical record too. Actually, scratch that, he was going to need _vaccinations_. A CV with some sort of employment history. A job. A bank account. A phone number. An email address. Knowledge on how to operate the above. Knowledge, in general, of history and politics and geography and literature and…

His own legends. As soon as Arthur learned to use the internet, that self-absorbed cabbage head would google himself, wouldn’t he.

Things would have been much easier if he had showed up even only a century earlier.

Merlin was going to have to take some time off work, a week at least. He was supposed to drive back to London tomorrow, but London could be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to city life, let alone someone who was still to even grasp the concept of urban area. He would call in later and make up a sort of family emergency, then buy chocolates for all his colleagues who would end up covering his shifts.

Too many things to do, to think about. He should have been more prepared.

“Did you hear what I said?” Arthur asked, his voice dragging Merlin away from his thoughts. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

Merlin realised they were no longer in the bathroom, but in the bedroom, and Arthur was standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips.

“I zoned out,” Merlin admitted.

“I noticed,” Arthur said. Then, he pointed at Merlin’s open suitcase in the corner of the room. “I asked if these are the only clothes you have for me?”

“Uhm, no… those are my clothes.”

“Where are mine then?”

Merlin hesitated. “I, uh… I don’t have anything. For you. But I’ll go get you some.”

Arthur nodded. “It seems you have quite a few errands to run.”

“You have no idea.”

As a matter of fact, Merlin decided this trip to the shops had to be done sooner rather than later.

“I can’t go outside in my nightwear, it’s not respectable,” Arthur complained, standing on the second last step of the staircase, as Merlin put on his shoes.

“You’re not coming.” There was no way on earth Merlin was going to take Arthur to Tesco on a Saturday morning. Or ever. Not anytime soon. “It’s best if you wait for me here.”

“What, why? I have been to a farmer’s market before, I can deal with royalty and peasants alike.”

Merlin wasn’t even sure which bit of his sentence to focus on first. “Just stay here and don’t touch anything,” he simply said as he buttoned up his jacket and grabbed the car keys.

“Are you giving me orders, Merlin?”

“It’s really important that you don’t touch anything. For your own safety.”

As he drove, all of the possible worst-case scenarios started flooding Merlin’s mind. Flood. Fire. Electrocution. Smashed telly. Third degree burns. Gas leak. Poisoning. Allergic reaction. He realised he should have at least switched off the plugs before leaving. He pushed away those images and focused instead on the plan for the immediate future. He’d called work in the car, they agreed to give him the week off, which means he had one week now to get Arthur London-ready, as much as he could ever be anyway.

Upon his return home, no more than an hour later, Merlin sighed in relief in seeing his house was still intact and his neighbours did not have to call the emergency services.

Before walking in, there was one more call he had to make. It only rang twice before she picked up.

_“Emrys?”_

“Hey, hi, uh, how is it going?”

_“I’m good, yes, is everything okay with you? You never call me, are you alright?”_

“Yeah, it’s, uh, I’m good. I just wanted you to know I won’t be in London the whole week, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

_“What happened? You said you were coming home tomorrow?”_

“I know, I know, I just can’t come back at the moment, I… uh, I can’t explain right now. But I’m okay.”

_“Are you sure? I’m a bit worried now…”_

“No! No, don’t be. I’m okay really, I’ll talk to you next Sunday, yes? I won’t be able to text much this week.”

_“Emrys you’re scaring me, what’s going on?!”_

“I promise I’ll tell you everything when I see you, promised. Okay?”

_“Uhm, yes, okay… will you be back for the party?”_

“Of course, I’d never miss it.”

_“Okay… take care, please? And text me if you need me.”_

“I will, don’t worry.”

He said goodbye and hung up, staring at the screen until it became black. How he wished he could have told her everything, just how excited and happy and worried he was. They always shared everything with each other.

Instead, he put the phone in flight mode back in his pocket and walked in. The living room was quiet, eerily so, and Merlin couldn’t quite bring himself to believe Arthur had actually done what he was told.

“Arthur?” he called. He popped into the kitchen to put away the frozen food, then walked upstairs faster than he was ready to admit.

When he found Arthur sitting on the armchair in the spare room, with a book open on his knees and two more at his feet on the floor, Merlin felt a mix of relief and annoyance.

“You just _had_ to go through my stuff, didn’t you,” he said, doing nothing to hide the irritation in his voice.

Arthur looked up from the book. “What else did you want me to do? Stare at the wall? You were away for _ages_.”

“It was one hour, one, and I asked you not to touch anything!”

“I don’t take orders,” Arthur countered before returning his attention to the book.

“Prat,” Merlin muttered.

“I heard you.”

Merlin walked closer to where his friend was sitting, a lovely antique-ish armchair right next to the window – Merlin’s reading spot. He couldn’t help noticing how the angle of the light was giving Arthur a sort of aura, making his eyes bluer and his hair blonder, and his cheekbones sharper. Merlin could have stared at him forever, so gorgeous and positively _alive_.

Feeling Merlin’s presence hover next to him, Arthur looked up again. “This is the Earth, isn’t it?”

He was looking at the atlas. Merlin kneeled beside him and took a few minutes to talk him through the continents. It wasn’t the most up to date atlas, as proven by the presence of East and West Germany in the Europe map, but Merlin didn’t believe Arthur would remember anyway.

“I can’t believe Albion is so… small,” Arthur said, his fingers lingering with reverence over the British Isles. “And it looks different from my old maps.”

“It’s called England now,” Merlin said. “England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland. The United Kingdom.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, still kneeled at this side. “Who united it?”

“It’s a long story… one that you have a week to learn.”

“What?” Arthur was goggling now, struggling to believe his ears, and Merlin decided this was the right time to disclose the plan he had elaborated while strolling up and down the Tesco aisles.

“We have one week to get you up to speed with everything that you missed in the last fifteen centuries,” Merlin said.

“Why, what’s happening in a week? The war?”

“No, uh, I’ll need to go back home in a week’s time.”

“Home?!” Arthur squeaked. “Whose house is this?!”

“Mine, don’t worry... but I don’t actually live here, I spend most of my time somewhere else. In London,” Merlin pointed at the city on the map. “I have a job there that I need to go back to.”

Something changed in Arthur’s eyes at those words as his lips assumed the shape of an ‘o’. “Oh, I see,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “So you belong to someone else now?”

Merlin’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline.

“As a servant, I mean,” Arthur quickly corrected himself, the lightest blush spreading on his cheeks. “I meant if you are someone else’s servant now.”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “That was an odd way to phrase it.” While a part of him found the word choice hilarious, the other part was warmed by it. Merlin knew he belonged to Arthur in a way, he’d always had, their destinies were intertwined together. “But no, I’m not a servant anymore. I’m a nurse.”

“Is that sort of a physician?”

“Sort of, yes.”

Merlin spent almost all of his lifetimes being a physician at first, and then a doctor once medicine became a thing. Healing people or helping them pass away gracefully made him feel as if his immortal life had a purpose after all, one other than waiting around for the king’s return. When he started his current identity, however, Merlin decided he would go for nurse instead – as much as he loved the diagnostics piece of being a doctor, he’d missed the hands-on patient care part.

“What’s your work got to do with my learning, though?” Arthur asked.

“I won’t have as much time to be around you,” Merlin explained. “You’ll need to be independent. Know everything about this era, and everything that has been.”

“Right.”

“But also, you’ll need to know the ways of these people if you are to lead them,” Merlin continued. “Would you want a king who knows nothing about his people’s customs and traditions?”

Arthur seemed to ponder for a moment, the direction of his gaze getting lost somewhere in the void in front of him. “No, I suppose not.”

Then, he returned his attention to the atlas, mindlessly tracing the borders of Great Britain with his forefinger.

“Who drew this anyway?” he asked. “How do we know it’s correct?”

“I promise by the end of this week you’ll have an answer to everything.”

Arthur nodded, seemingly convinced by the answer.

“But first,” Merlin added with a cheeky smile. “There is something else we need to do.”

“Like what?”

Merlin forced him to close the atlas book for the time being and dragged him to the bedroom. Then, he went to retrieve the two Tesco bags of clothing he’d left downstairs.

“I need you to try these on,” Merlin said, emptying the bags on the bed. “See what you like, see what fits.”

Arthur observed the downpour of colourful clothes before stepping closer to analyse them. The material was soft, softer than he was used to, the colours brighter. Mostly, however, there was _a lot_ of items.

“Where did you find a seamstress who could make all of these in such a short time?”

“They, uh, come pre-made now. You just go and buy them.” And frankly it was a development Merlin was endlessly grateful for.

He opened his wardrobe to reveal a full-length mirror, then sat on the bed waiting for Arthur to begin. The main reason he was doing this was not to see what would fit Arthur -he had enough familiarity with Arthur’s body to believe he’d got the right sizes - but more to learn what Arthur liked, what made him feel good in his own skin.

Merlin eyed the large pile of clothes at his side, and then Arthur, to get him to begin the show.

Arthur sighed, standing in front of Merlin with his arms wide open. When nothing happened, he looked down at his friend. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you expecting me to do this _by myself_?”

The corners of Merlin’s mouth twitched up in a repressed smile. As much as he would have loved doing this, it was best for Arthur to put on his own clothes.

“There’s nothing heavy or tricky to wear,” he offered. “You can dress yourself. That’s what people do these days.”

Arthur sighed again, louder this time, exhaling all his disappointment. “Fine.”

The second Arthur pulled down his trousers, Merlin jumped up from the bed realising Arthur was still not wearing any type of underwear.

“First things first, underwear!” he exclaimed, rummaging through the pile of clothing to find the boxer briefs. Black. Pack of five. He handed one to Arthur, who was standing there with his hands on his hips and his private parts poking out from under the pyjama shirt. “To protect your most delicate areas.”

Arthur complied quickly and Merlin was just glad he wasn’t going to find himself face to face with a stark-naked Arthur anymore.

Right afterwards came the shirt struggle, as Arthur faced a hard time coming to terms with how to use the buttons. Eventually, Merlin intervened.

“Just like this, see? The button needs to pass through the aisle,” he explained softly, demonstrating the action with skilled fingers. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Without fully realising, he worked all the way down until the silky shirt fell open, and Arthur thanked him with a nod.

The rest of the clothing, Arthur seemed to manage without requiring assistance.

“Remind me why I’m doing this,” he said as he grabbed the current t-shirt to pull it above his head.

“I’ll return the things that don’t fit,” Merlin said. “Or that you don’t like.”

“It’s _clothes_ , Merlin,” came the muffled reply beneath the new jumper. “If they shield my body and allow me to walk around, they’re good enough.”

“Well you know, you can do all that while looking…” _Nice. Good. Fashionable. Fine. Fit_. “Cute,” Merlin’s brain supplied instead.

“ _Cute_?” Arthur’s head poked out of the jumper showing the typical you’re-an-idiot expression. “I’m not an eight-year-old girl braiding flowers, Merlin. I don’t look _cute_.”

“You know what I meant,” Merlin said with mild embarrassment. Although he couldn’t deny he did find Arthur cute sometimes, when he wasn’t being an arse, that really wasn’t the word he was looking for.

When Arthur dropped the topic and went back to trying on clothes, Merlin thanked him silently.

Arthur tried on a few more items before something changed on his face, Merlin spotted the difference in the mirror reflection. Arthur’s mouth curled up in a smile as he looked at the denim jacket he had on, smoothing it on his stomach, closing it up with his hands.

“I like this one,” he said. It was the first time he’d mentioned he liked a piece of clothing.

“You do?”

Arthur turned around to glance at his own back in the mirror. “Yeah.”

Merlin knew something new now – twenty-first century Arthur liked denim jackets.

He kept trying on the clothes, but his spirit was different, no longer it felt like a duty but rather an activity he slowly started to enjoy. Some things he liked out loud, others with a hidden smile, some others were discarded with a grimace, and Merlin was left to enjoy the show of Arthur discovering something new about himself.

“Is that all you got me?” Arthur asked once he tried on everything. He didn’t even attempt to hide the disappointment.

“Yeah, for now,” Merlin replied. He’d pretty much raided the limited menswear aisle at Tesco. “We can get more next week.”

*

They spent the rest of the day studying the world atlas, and then a couple more books about the space and the inner Earth, and preparing a stew for dinner. As much as Merlin would have liked Arthur to try new flavours and textures, he wasn’t sure how his stomach would react to processed food.

“Why don’t you hire someone to cook for you?” Arthur asked as Merlin peeled some potatoes.

“It’s not a thing, not for common people anyway. Everyone cooks their own food.” Or they eat out, or they order takeaway, he wanted to add, but eventually didn’t. Best not to exaggerate with the amount of information just yet.

“Good thing I have you, then.”

Merlin almost laughed. “You’ll have to learn how to cook too. Basic things.”

“As I said, good thing I have you,” Arthur reiterated, and Merlin decided to drop it for now.

Good thing indeed.

The evening took a twist when Merlin had to charge his phone, and Arthur asked what it was.

“We use this to communicate with people who are far away,” Merlin explained briefly. He hadn’t planned to explain modern communication means for a few more days.

Right there and then, Arthur simply nodded, but the shift in mood became clear. Arthur became increasingly more silent, lost in his own thoughts, his gaze fixed on a definite spot and yet nowhere tangible, perhaps retracting into a world that no longer existed. Merlin made a few attempts at conversation at first, giving up upon realising they were monologues instead. He knew what Arthur was thinking, but couldn’t find the right words to elaborate.

It was still fairly early when Arthur announced he wanted to retire to his chambers. Merlin was sitting on the sofa with a book of his own as he watched Arthur finally close up the atlas, although, Merlin suspected, he’s stopped paying any real attention to it way before they even had dinner.

Merlin followed his king upstairs, almost out of habit. He scolded himself because the bed was still unmade, after all, surely he could have found a few minutes in the entire day to make the bed. Not that it mattered, but he couldn’t help himself pulling the duvet up and fluffing up the pillows while Arthur took his sweet time in the bathroom.

Merlin wished he could crawl into the bed too instead of spending another night on the sofa downstairs, enjoying the softness and warmth and maybe even Arthur’s presence and…

“Why aren’t they doing strings anymore, who thought _buttons_ would be a good idea?!” a frustrated Arthur snapped as he appeared behind Merlin’s back, making him jump in surprise.

Merlin glanced at his friend’s pyjama shirt, how it was buttoned up all wrong, the first button having been matched with the second aisle. “It’s already an improvement from this morning.”

Arthur almost groaned as he started unbuttoning the shirt and the tiny buttons kept slipping between his fingers.

“Here, let me,” Merlin said softly, taking over the task, first unbuttoning the shirt all the way down and then doing it up again. Arthur let him, his arms limp at his sides, focusing his attention on Merlin’s quick fingers working on his clothes.

“The more often you do it, the easier it gets,” Merlin said once he was done.

Then, just like the previous evening, he lifted up the duvet corner, and Arthur crawled in, sinking in the soft mattress with a half-contained sigh.

“Can I help you with anything else?” Merlin asked softly as he switched off the big light, leaving only the dimmer, warmer one on the nightstand. He didn’t know whether he was still asking out of habit, or if he just wanted Arthur to feel at home, even for a minute.

Arthur seemed to hesitate for a moment. “No, it’s… No. Thank you.”

Merlin nodded, bidding good night. He was about to leave the room when Arthur called him back.

“Actually there is something else,” he said, almost shyly.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me about Guinevere?”

Merlin stepped back into the bedroom, tentatively. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything… what happened once I… you went back to Camelot, didn’t you? After…”

“I did.”

Arthur smiled, his eyes lighting up with curiosity in the soft light. “Was she a good Queen?”

Merlin was about to answer when he was interrupted.

“Just don’t tell me if she remarried. I’m not ready to know just yet.”

He patted the empty bed space to his right and Merlin complied the unspoken request. He sat there on top of the covers, his back leaning against the wooden headboard, and spoke to Arthur about Gwen’s kingdom, how she lifted the ban on magic and made him Court Sorcerer, the treaties she signed, the wars she won. He didn’t remember many of the smaller things, but he still knew the main facts. He had his diaries somewhere in the attic, he’d retrieve them the following day.

Arthur listened in silence, lying down on his side, curling up on himself more and more as the minutes went by, his head coming to rest closer and closer to Merlin’s thigh. Merlin glanced down at him from time to time; although Arthur’s face was hidden from Merlin’s view, he noticed a solitary tear streaming down to the tip of the king’s nose. Merlin wished he could wipe it away with his thumb, and gently stroke Arthur’s hair, feel its softness and shower-residual dampness under his fingertips.

Instead, he kept talking, his hands well fixed on his lap.

Soon, drowsiness overtook him and made his words more sluggish, his sentences less coherent. He closed his eyes, leaning back his head - how nice would it be to fall asleep here, next to Arthur, so nice and so very easy. He’d barely slept at all the previous night.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s call awoke his mind enough to be aware of his surroundings, but not enough to make him open his eyes.

“Mh?”

“You can go now.”

Arthur sounded just as sleepy as Merlin did.

“This is my bed, you know,” Merlin protested, his eyes still closed, his head too heavy to lift. “I’m letting you borrow it.”

For a second, neither of them spoke, and Merlin could feel his mind drift off again. The next second, he was being pushed off the bed, and _that_ startled him fully awake. His reflexes didn’t catch up in time and he fell flat on the floor between the bed and the wall.

“Did you just push me off my own bed?!”

Arthur shifted to occupy the middle of the bed spread out as a star. “Mhm, ‘s my bed now.”

Merlin got up, grumpy and cold, his knees kind of sore from hitting the floor in spite of the carpet. He was going to stress the fact that he was just _lending_ the bed for a few nights, and then go on about Arthur being still the same old prat he always was, but soon all his intentions disappeared like mist in the morning. Arthur was looking up at him, his head buried in the pillow, his cheeks flushed from the shower or perhaps the warmth of the duvet pulled up to his chin. His lips curled up in an arrogant yet sleepy smirk. He looked soft, _cute_ , and Merlin’s heart swelled at the realisation of just how much he’d missed him.

Of course he wasn’t going to say this out loud.

“I did not miss you _at all_ ,” he mumbled instead.

He shut the door and went back downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: yes chapter titles are from Show Yourself, for no particular reason except because I felt like it. I do not own Disney nor the Frozen franchise just like I do not own BBC Merlin.


	4. ...Like a friend I've always known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you once again for your support :) this chapter is a bit long (word count is around 15k) but I didn't know how to divide it, so I'm just going to post it as one unit.  
> No particular warning needed apart from what is in the tags.  
> Enjoy and stay safe xx

When he walked downstairs in the morning, Arthur smelled something in the air, a new aroma he had never smelled before. The sun was shining, pale and cold, for the first time since he came back.

Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted by the breakfast Merlin had prepared for him, a very similar plate to the one Arthur last remembered in Camelot – a plate with bread, cheese, and meat, plus a bowl with some fruit. The unknown aroma was even stronger, but pleasant.

“You didn’t wake me up,” Arthur said.

Merlin poked his head out from behind the fridge door. “Oh hey! I thought you could use a lie in,” he said with a smile. “Besides I’ve only just woken up too.”

He gestured for Arthur to take a seat in front of his plate, and Arthur was more than happy to comply, his stomach twitching with hunger as he took a first bite of bread with cheese.

“Do you like the breakfast menu this morning, _my lord_?” Merlin asked, stirring some Greek yogurt into his granola bowl. The kettle on the counter rumbled, then flicked to a halt.

Arthur’s mouth was stuffed too full already to reply anything more than a muffled affirmation.

“Try this one too, it’s called tea,” Merlin said, pouring some boiling water into a mug and stirring a drop of milk into it. The spoon clinked against the ceramic. “It’s like an infusion, you should like it.” Then, he went back to his own food.

Arthur polished off his plate and bowl in just a few minutes, then turned his attention to the steaming mug and gave it a sniff. “This isn’t what’s smelling so good,” he declared.

“What do you mean?” 

“There’s a smell in the air, and it’s not this _tea_ thing. For sure it wasn’t my breakfast either.”

“Oh, uh, it was my drink… coffee.”

“Coffee,” Arthur repeated. “I want to try it too.”

Merlin almost choked on a raisin. He really wanted to get Arthur’s introduction to stimulants to be gradual, starting with some theine. “Best if you try tea first.”

“Why can’t I have both?”

“Uhm, coffee is a bit… strong.”

“I am not a weakling, Merlin, I can handle strong,” Arthur said. “I want both.”

“Okay fine, I’ll make you a cup of coffee too,” Merlin replied, raising his hands in surrender.

“And I also want a bowl of that food you’re having… whatever it is.”

Merlin grabbed another mug and flicked the kettle on again. Sure, both caffeine _and_ artificial sugars in one go for somebody who had never tried either, what could possibly go wrong?

Half an hour later, Arthur was bouncing up and down the living room.

“I feel so _energised_!” he practically shouted. “I am ready to take down the enemy!”

He pretended to pull out a sword and started moving his arms around in the void, as to fight an invisible opponent.

Merlin glanced at his friend with a mixture of amusement and concern. Clearly he was experiencing an adrenaline rush induced by caffeine sensitivity.

“We’re starting to learn some history today, now that you have some basic geography,” Merlin replied, continuing his attempt to tidy up the room a bit. With the bedroom being out of use, he was using the sofa as bed and the other chairs as clothing racks, his suitcase open on the floor.

“I don’t want to be stuck here all day,” Arthur moaned, dropping the pretend fight. “I need to start my training, I can’t be caught unprepared when the enemy comes. Where’s my sword?”

“Yeah, about that…”

An explanation followed on how swords were not really a thing anymore, and whatever enemy was coming was probably not going to be defeated with a sword fight. Merlin also mentioned how Excalibur didn’t seem to be anywhere.

“Perhaps it will be returned to me only when I really need it,” Arthur pondered.

“It’s possible, yes.”

“In any case Merlin, we shall go outside. Take me to the village.”

Merlin had absolutely no intention of taking the former king anywhere near civilisation for at least a few more days, but he got an alternative idea.

“Or we could go for a run,” he suggested. There was a public footpath not that far from the house, it led to the fields and ensured minimal chances of encountering other people – mostly other runners with earphones on.

Right there and then, Arthur was ready to agree on whatever type of activity would take him out of the house.

“So people just _run_ now? Down the street? Without anyone chasing them?” he asked a bit later, as they were putting on trainers, which Merlin had insisted were the suitable shoes for this type of activity. They did feel surprisingly comfortable.

“It’s a form of exercise, to keep in shape,” Merlin replied. He enjoyed running quite a bit actually, though swimming was mainly his thing. Back in London he had some proper running clothes, but today just a pair of joggers and a t-shirt would do.

By the time they left the house, the sun was hiding behind a large grey cloud and the air was crisp and chilly. Arthur took a few tentative steps towards the car parked only a few feet away from the front door and leaned his hand against it, feeling the smooth, cold grey metal against his skin. He slid his palm a few inches across it, collecting the residual raindrops from the previous day.

“It’s a car,” Merlin offered. “We use it as a mean of transportation. Instead of horses.”

“I figured as much,” Arthur said absent-mindedly, his attention now to the side mirrors. He grabbed one and shifted it a bit. “And it also isn’t magic?”

“No.” Merlin decided not to go into the details of how the motor worked, mainly because he barely understood that himself.

Arthur kneeled down to stroke a finger across the pneumatics, not bothered by his own fingertips becoming black with dirt. “It’s much faster than a horse.”

“It is.”

“The other night, it was a bit, uhm…”

“Frightening?”

“Unsettling,” Arthur corrected him defensively, standing up. “I don’t get _scared_ , Merlin, you know that.”

The picture of a soaked wet, naked, terrified Arthur in the backseat of the car flashed across Merlin’s mind. “I was really scared the first time I got on one,” he said reassuringly.

It wasn’t actually a car, but Merlin remembered the first time he took one of those trains, back when they worked with coal and steam. The noise they made, the smell of burnt, and how fast they seemed to go even though they would be very slow for modern standards – Merlin remembered being scared and feeling physically sick, as if his heart and lungs were being pulled out of his chest via his mouth. It was a common reaction.

Arthur just scoffed. “Everything scares you, Merlin.”

_Prat_.

“So what now, we just start running?” Arthur asked, changing topic. He was still weirded out by the whole concept of running not as in running away or running towards a danger.

“Not yet, follow me.”

They walked side by side down the street, mostly in silence, only the sound of leaves crunching under their shoes, Arthur’s eyes wandering around and studying the world around him. The concrete beneath his feet, the cars parked on the side of the road, the houses all looking very much like one another. Everything looked so different that he had a hard time believing this was more or less the area in which he used to live, hunt, fight. Reign. While a part of him knew that fifteen centuries were a long time, the other wondered if there really was no corner in this whole land that could maybe look familiar, in which he could glance around and recognise each and every thing he saw.

A corner where he could feel that he still belonged.

The footpath that Merlin led him to was better than the big road, fully surrounded by trees and grass that made the air a bit thicker and purer at the same time. He took a big breath, closing his eyes just for a second, enjoying the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze. He looked up at the trees, noting with a hint of relief that nature was still doing her thing and colouring the leaves in yellows and oranges when autumn came.

“Right, let’s go,” Merlin said as he started running. Arthur followed him, an oddly slow pace, mimicking his friend’s posture with his arms awkwardly bent up and his hands closed in loose fists.

Just a minute later, the path left the trees behind and opened up to a green valley. Arthur stopped in his tracks, breathing in the sight of the distant hills, the damp grass still shiny with the rain of the previous day, the sun poking out from time to time behind the thickening clouds. The chilly breeze tickled his warm face, ruffled his hair, and he couldn’t help but smile. He could still see the odd house and a narrow road in the distance, but this looked much more like a place he could remember.

His eyes fell on Merlin, who was doing an awkward run-in-place kind of thing, looking like he was stomping on a residual fire and burning his feet in the process.

Arthur grinned, striding towards his friend, and playfully slapped the back of his head.

And then he was running.

“Catch me!” he shouted. And he ran, fast, until the breeze turned into a wind and his heart was in his throat, taking it all in, the sky, the hills, the grass, the freedom, the life.

When he stopped to catch his breath, leaning his hands against his knees, he turned to find Merlin still quite far away from him.

“Come on Merlin! Fifteen centuries and you still run like a girl!” Arthur shouted, his hands cupped at the sides of his mouth.

And then he was running again, unable to remove the wide grin from his face.

*

_A Brief History of Great Britain from 1066 to Modern Times._

Arthur had yawned just reading the title, he was always one to learn more by doing rather than by reading, but he had now accepted he really had to start learning something about the centuries he’d missed.

“I have a more detailed version too, if you prefer. One in sixteen volumes,” Merlin had said threateningly.

Arthur had taken the book from Merlin’s hands like he would take up a challenge, sat at the desk of the spare room near the reading chair, a steaming cup of tea on hand – he actually really liked this tea beverage – and started reading.

The weather had turned rainy again, the light tapping against the window distracting and relaxing Arthur at the same time. Merlin was next to him, reading his own thing in his reading chair. Fiction, he said it was. A book that told a made-up story, written with the purpose of entertaining the reader.

Arthur wondered if such things existed back when he was younger, before realising that even if they did, he wouldn’t have known. He was the Crown Prince, then King, he was never given any time for his own entertainment, except the odd court feast, and even then there was always some political undertone. It was never just for fun.

He glanced back at his friend who was sipping his tea and seemed engrossed in the reading. The room was quiet, the rain being the only sound, and it was warm, warmer than the outside temperature, and yet there was no fire. Arthur now knew what it was, Merlin had taught him about gas and electricity and heating, none of which was magic, still he marvelled at how it had all come together in the centuries, and how his people, his Gwen, would never see any of this. He would trade anything to get her to experience this ridiculous _comfort_.

But he was here and she wasn’t, and none of this made any kind of sense without her here, and the least he could do was get back to her as soon as possible.

Saddened by this line of thought, he turned his attention back to the history book.

*

Arthur was brushing his teeth, almost ready to get in bed, when he was distracted by some noises coming from the above, seemingly of heavy things being moved around, dragged and dropped, all followed by a loud thud. He quickly rinsed his mouth and left the bathroom, only to find Merlin climbing down a ladder that disappeared into the ceiling.

“Where does that lead?” Arthur asked. He had no idea the house had a hidden room.

“The loft,” Merlin replied, coming down slowly and carefully, one hand holding on to the ladder, the other holding a heavy wooden chest that looked both very old and very well preserved at the same time. When he finally reached the floor, panting from the effort, he rested the chest gracefully on the carpet, before pushing up the ladder.

Arthur watched it fold on itself very slowly and disappear inside the hatch. Much to his constant amazement, he knew this also wasn’t magic. “What do you keep up there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin said vaguely, pointing at the chest to bring his friend’s attention back where it was supposed to be. “I got something for you.”

“What is it?”

Merlin’s eyes glowed gold as he pronounced some enchanted words, completely unintelligible for Arthur. The chest snapped open to reveal his content – a number of large parchment sheets, some rolled up, most sewed together in a book-like manner. The smell of old paper was strong and pungent.

“Merlin, I told you I’m not interested in reading the full sixteen-volume version of British history. The short version you gave me is working just fine,” Arthur said, his arms crossed to his chest, about to walk into the bedroom.

“No, it’s not… It’s not that,” Merlin whispered, a wave of emotion suddenly clear in his voice.

He kneeled in front of the chest, stroking the wooden edges with reverence, too scared to touch the actual paper, afraid it would crumble under his fingers. It’d been so very long since he last opened this.

“What is it then?”

“It’s… my diaries. From Camelot.”

Arthur swallowed back a gasp. “Your diaries?” he asked tentatively, kneeling beside his friend, looking at the rusty paper just a few inches from him.

“I wrote about the kingdom… my life there… so that you could have it. Once you came back. Know what happened while you were away,” Merlin’s voice trembled slightly, from emotion and excitement because he knew what type of content those sheets held, but _he didn’t remember._

That had been the intention. When Camelot fell, Merlin shove all he’d written in the previous decades in a wooden chest and sealed it with magic for safety and preservation, only for Arthur to reopen, whenever that would be. He dragged that box with him his whole existence, wherever he went. Many times he considered opening it, to relive the memories, or perhaps to have it printed or typed, but he always ended up deciding against it.

He wanted Arthur to have the originals, his handwriting, the paper, everything. And he also wanted to only relive the memories once Arthur was really there.

Arthur’s hand hovered above the open chest.

“Not just mine,” Merlin added as another piece of the puzzle came to his mind. “Gwen wrote some entries too. Everyone… when they knew you would come back. Everyone wanted to write something.”

He glanced at Arthur just in time to see a tear roll down his cheek, before he wiped it away.

“Thank you, Merlin. You have no idea how much it means.” He might have hidden his tears but the quiver in his voice was evident.

Carefully, Arthur took one of the volumes in his hands, one of those Merlin had sewed together and covered in treated horse skin for protection.

“The ones with a cover are the first ones. Chronologically,” he explained. He watched Arthur nod, his eyes still glistening. Merlin watched him open the cover slowly, a smile on his lips, excited and afraid of what he could find, hands almost trembling

Then, he watched as a sudden frown appeared on Arthur’s face, and his awed smile gradually disappeared.

“I… I don’t understand this,” he whispered, tentatively, almost with shame, his eyes frantically scanning the pages. “Any of this.”

It was Merlin’s turn now to furrow his brows. “What do you mean?” He leaned closer to Arthur to glance at the same pages he was looking at. The ink was still perfect, thanks to magic.

“The language… I don’t understand it.”

“What? No… it’s your language, it’s what we used to speak back then,” Merlin said, his heart racing as he mentally searched for an explanation.

“I know what it is. I recognise it. But I can’t understand it… it’s gibberish.”

As Arthur carefully closed the book and put it back in the chest, Merlin’s heart sunk to his stomach as he realised what happened.

“Arthur, I… I’m so sorry,” he said simply. “I… I didn’t meant to, I don’t know what-“

“It was the spell, wasn’t it? The spell you did on me the first night,” Arthur asked, disappointed and so very sad, as Merlin mentally kicked his own arse.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin repeated, his shoulders slumping forward, wondering how he’d managed to screw this up so bad. He used magic so rarely that he fucked up the easiest spells. “I wanted you to learn this English, but I never meant to replace your native one.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes still fixed on the books. He was so close to his people, and yet so far. Then, he looked back at Merlin. “You can undo it, right? The same way you made me learn this English, you can make me relearn the old one.”

“That’s not how it works,” Merlin said, shaking his head, overwhelmed with disbelief that he’d made such a colossal mistake. “It was a communication spell… for us to understand each other. It wasn’t a language spell, there… there is no such thing, not for human languages.”

He looked down before he could see all hope being drained from his friend’s face.

“So it’s gone? Forever?” Arthur asked, his voice as small and defeated as it’d ever been.

When Merlin nodded, ashamedly, Arthur stood up with a sigh.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry, I promise I never meant to take this from you,” Merlin said again, standing up too, reaching out to touch Arthur’s shoulder. He flinched away, his fists clenching at his sides, his lips pressed together.

For a moment, Merlin saw anger surge inside his friend, and he prepared for all the well-deserved insults that were coming his way. _You’re an idiot, Merlin. You’re useless. Is there anything you can ever do right?!_

None came.

“It’s okay,” Arthur said instead. It was as if any anger had simply disappeared, replaced by utter and total sorrow. “Thank you anyway for… writing it. I appreciate the gesture.”

Merlin realised he was ready to face anger, but felt completely helpless against this. He tried to apologise again but no words came out of his mouth.

“I’ll be in my chambers… I’ll see you in the morning,” Arthur said, before retiring in the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself.

Merlin slumped to the floor, emptied, his stomach cramping. Of all the things he could offer Arthur in this life, this was probably the most precious, the thing Arthur cared about the most – not history, not fancy food, not clothes - and he blew it, miserably.

He looked at the chest, full of words and emotions and memories that were now potentially lost forever. All Gwen’s loving words, all the knights’ jokes, all the people’s good wishes and prayers. All the love that Arthur was meant to receive was just lost to Merlin’s utter incompetence in doing the one thing he was born to do.

It was only after a good half an hour of biting his nails and pacing back and forth in the spare room, surrounded by spell books disguised as classic fiction, that he had an idea.

“Arthur?” he knocked softly the bedroom door. “Are you still up?”

No light seemed to be on but Arthur’s reply came anyway. “Come in.”

Merlin did, to find his friend sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the dark sky out the window, the streetlights providing the only visibility in the room.

“Sorry to disturb you, I… uh, I have a spell,” Merlin started, tentatively. “One that would allow you to read the diaries.”

When Arthur turned his head, Merlin noticed his eyes were puffier than usual and he wondered if Arthur was just tired or if he’d been crying.

“What would it entail?” Arthur asked, curious but unwilling to let himself hope too much.

“It wouldn’t give you the language back, but you would be able to read and understand those specific texts. Not the words themselves, just the meaning behind them,” Merlin explained, realising it didn’t make much sense. “It would be as if your mind sort of translates them automatically.”

Arthur glanced down as silence fell in the room, pondering on the concept he’d just heard. “I don’t know, Merlin,” he said eventually with defeat. “I don’t want to risk losing anything else.”

It hurt Merlin more than he expected to hear Arthur’s distrust in magic suddenly back in his words.

“Do you still… do you still understand them?” Arthur asked next, his eyes back on Merlin’s.

“No. I haven’t read them since I wrote them.”

“Then perhaps you can do the spell on yourself, and then read them to me.”

Although Merlin was taken aback by the suggestion, he quite liked the idea of being able to re-read his own thoughts and memories, and he liked even more that he was going to read them out loud to Arthur, witness his reactions, hear his comments.

“I’ll do that,” he said eventually.

“Now?” It came halfway between an order and a timid suggestion, and Merlin didn’t quite know which one it was supposed to be, but he complied anyway.

He came back to the bedroom once the spell was done on the first diary – he thanked his old self for having put numbers on each book, he would have never remembered the order otherwise. Finding the nightstand light on and Arthur snugly under the duvet just like the night before, Merlin wondered if there was something more in Arthur’s request, other than the distrust in magic. Maybe this was his way of asking to be coddled, and Merlin was more than happy to indulge. He could never deny anything to his king.

Just like the night before, Merlin sat on the right side of the bed, above the covers, adjusting a pillow behind his back. He opened the book on the first page, ready to treasure what he himself had written fifteen centuries earlier.

Arthur sat up too, shifting closer to Merlin, looking at the thick black ink on yellow grainy paper. Every letter looked different from the next, the lines curved a bit and followed the page, and Arthur thought he liked this much better than the modern books Merlin had, printed with a standard writing and all looking like one another.

“You can lean on my shoulder if you want,” Merlin said, noticing how Arthur was awkwardly pending on one side, his weight supported on his left arm, in an attempt to see the pages.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe-“

“Just read, Merlin, will you.”

Merlin sighed.

_My lord, King Arthur of Camelot,_

_This day marks one week since your passing by hand of Mordred in the battle of Camlann. These letters shall be for you to treasure upon your return to Albion in her moment of greatest need…_

Merlin read the first entry, about how the kingdom was adjusting to the loss of her king, about Guinevere’s coronation and Arthur’s funerals, even though the body was never found. At the end, it was signed _Merlin of Ealdor, son of Hunith_.

His eyes lined up with tears at reading his mother’s name because he hadn’t thought of her in so long, and because he barely remembered anything of her. Not her face, not her voice, not the warmth of her touch. He knew, somewhere in his heart, that he had a happy childhood, but he could not remember one moment of it.

“You okay?” Arthur asked with a hint of concern.

Merlin sniffled. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said, not wanting to burden Arthur with his own pain. “I’ll read the next one too, shall I?”

And he did, and then he read another one, and another, both men getting lost in a shared past long gone. Merlin kept reading until he could feel his eyes closing from sleepiness and Arthur gently dismissed him.

*

They fell into a routine of sorts.

They tended to have quite long lie-ins, and then Arthur wanted to run every morning, he loved being outside in the nature, exploring the fields where he could pretend time had never passed and he could still name everything he saw. Although Merlin wasn’t used to working out every single day, he always indulged his friend, out of fear of letting him go alone more than anything else.

“Are you ever going to take me to the village?” Arthur asked every day as they left the house.

“Soon,” was always the answer.

Arthur used the afternoon to read and learn, while Merlin did his own things – books, mainly, and some gardening when the sun allowed, as he didn’t really want to take out his laptop in front of his friend. He cut the phone use almost entirely, telling his friends he was doing a “detox”, only scrolling through social media and catching up on the group chat while sitting on the toilet.

He believed Arthur wasn’t ready yet for that bit of technology.

Merlin’s favourite part of the day, however, was always the night, where he would sit with Arthur in bed and read him the diaries until late. He believed Arthur enjoyed this too – nobody ever stated the Camelot diaries had to be an evening treat, almost a bedtime ritual, but they naturally came to be.

Arthur seemed to soften in the evening, his personality almost coming to match the dim light of the bedroom, warm and delicate, leaving his bossy behaviours and snarky remarks for the daytime activities. He just sat in silence next to Merlin and let himself be soothed by his voice.

Merlin loved it. He loved reliving his old life through his own words as much as he loved having Arthur so close, so much that he could feel the warmth of his body and hear his regular breaths. He would have given anything to be able to hold him, have his blond head on his chest or lap or shoulder, wrap his arms around him and keep him close. Maybe even stroke his hair, run his fingers down his back.

“Why don’t you, uh, rest your head here?” Merlin tried one night, vaguely gesturing at his lap before realising how inappropriate that looked. “I can get a pillow.” He grabbed one of the pillows and fixed it across his hips and abdomen. “You can lie down here… wouldn’t that be more comfortable for you?” He hoped his voice hadn’t sounded too desperate overall.

Arthur raised one eyebrow, looking a mix of confused and vaguely concerned. “I am not cuddling with you, Merlin, that’s not happening.”

“I don’t want to _cuddle_ ,” Merlin retorted defensively, even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. “It was just a suggestion for your comfort.”

“I am okay where I am, thank you very much.”

Merlin dropped it after that, resigned to enjoy what he could get.

*

On the food side, Merlin was trying to get Arthur to try different things. While jumping to most world cuisines would have been a hazard – too many unknown spices and flavours– Merlin realised there were a number of half-ways between katsu curry and yet another stew of unseasoned meat and veggies. He still stuck to home-cooked for now, there would be plenty of chances in London to order takeaway.

“We’re trying something different tonight,” he said. “I’ll make some spaghetti meatballs.”

“What is that?”

As the meatballs sizzled in the tomato sauce and the kitchen filled with the most delicious meaty smell, Merlin took his time explaining the concept of pasta, where it came from, and how easy it was to prepare – with any pre-made sauce, it was probably the easiest hot dish Merlin could think of after pot noodles.

“Spaa-geh-tee,” Arthur repeated, the syllables slipping awkwardly on his tongue.

“Perfect pronunciation.” Merlin filled the kettle to the edge and flicked it on.

“And they come from Italy.”

“Yes.”

“Italy is in Southern Europe and its capital city is Rome.”

“Very good.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, feeling proud of himself for remembering this piece of modern world trivia.

Merlin gave the meatballs a stir. “What about the capital of Spain?”

“Are you testing me, Merlin?”

“What, are you afraid you don’t know the answer?”

Merlin shot him a challenge look and Arthur took it on.

“Madrid.”

“France?”

“Paris.”

“Russia?”

Arthur’s confidence dropped as he searched in his mind for the answer. “Leningrad?”

Merlin gave him a very quizzical look before remembering his atlas was from the 80s.

“It’s Moscow,” he said. “And Leningrad doesn’t exist anymore, it’s called Saint Petersburg now.”

Arthur scoffed. “I’m pretty sure the book said Leningrad, I studied it for a whole afternoon.”

“Uh, the atlas is wrong… it’s outdated, actually. Some things have changed.”

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “I can’t believe it, Merlin, you had _one_ task, giving me a factually correct book.”

“Sorry about that, it’s an old book. Once you get to the end of the history book you’ll see why the atlas is wrong.”

The kettle rumbled and Merlin poured the water in a large pot, setting it on the hob. Arthur watched as bigger and bigger bubbles rose to the water surface, and Merlin dropped a large handful of spaa-geh-tee in it. The water quieted down for a moment.

Arthur nudged his friend with his elbow. “Ask me more questions.”

And just like that, Merlin learned Arthur was going to love a pub quiz.

Watching Arthur struggle to eat the spaghetti was also quite fun, although Merlin felt a bit guilty in finding amusement in someone else’s lack of abilities. At some point, he had to try hard to repress a snicker – Arthur was _slurping_ the spaghetti, loudly, his lips puckered, the spaghetti flapping wildly and spreading sauce everywhere. Soon his mouth was covered with it down to his chin.

“You’ve got some sauce…” Merlin started, circling his own face with a finger, amusement clear in his voice. “…on your face.”

“This isn’t funny, Merlin.”

He forced the snicker back pressing his lips together in a flat line.

After clearing his plate and mouth, Arthur grabbed a tomato from the fridge and smeared it across Merlin’s face, who gasped in surprise and reflexively squeezed his eyes shut. The juice dripped down his chin onto his clothes.

“You were right, it _is_ funny,” Arthur said smugly.

_Prat_.

*

The sun was shining on an unusually tear blue sky and the temperature was slightly warmer than the previous days.

“Perfect day to do laundry,” Merlin announced shortly after they were back from their morning run, glancing outside the kitchen window.

Arthur put the empty glass back in the sink with a clink. “You’re right.”

Right there and then, in the middle of the kitchen, he took off his sweat-drenched t-shirt with a swift movement and threw it at Merlin, who caught it across his face.

“Not what I me-“

He was interrupted by joggers and socks following suit, and he stopped Arthur before his underwear threatened to be next.

“You’re doing your own laundry,” Merlin clarified, forcing his eyes to stay focused on his friend’s face without wandering down to his bare chest, still flushed from the run. He couldn’t deny that having Arthur half naked and sweaty in his kitchen felt strange in the best way.

Arthur chuckled. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not. It’s a skill you need to have.”

“Well I don’t want to do that. It’s… gross.”

“It’s your own clothes!”

“They’re dirty and stinky.”

“Yes and you’ll make them clean again!”

Arthur crossed his arms to his chest, his lips taking a shape that vaguely resembled a pout. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“If you don’t wash these clothes, then soon you’ll have nothing to wear.”

Arthur hesitated for a second, making Merlin believe that he was actually considering walking around stark naked.

“Fine,” he said eventually, retrieving his clothes from Merlin’s arms.

After they both took a shower, Merlin instructed Arthur to get all his dirty clothes and come to the back garden, while he gathered the largest bucket he could find and filled it with water.

After all, they did say revenge is a dish best served cold.

Arthur arrived with a pile of clothes in his arms and an annoyed look on his face.

“You did say once that you were born to serve me,” he said flatly in a last attempt at making Merlin do this for him.

“I meant that I was born to be at your side while you fulfil your destiny of becoming the greatest king the world has ever known,” Merlin said. “Not that I was born to wash your socks.”

Arthur groaned, resigned, and Merlin gestured him to come closer to the bucket. He poured in some washing powder and showed Arthur how to proceed – wet the item, rub the item, rinse the item, wring out the item, hang the item on the drying rack.

“Have fun,” Merlin said with a grin. “If you need me, I’ll be on the sofa… chilling.”

Arthur called him back to the garden quite some time later. The drying rack was now full of clothing, ready to be taken inside in case of rain, and Arthur was standing next to the bucket, his hands on his hips and an accomplished look on his face.

“All done,” he said, quite proud of himself. “Do you need to do yours now?”

“Uh, you know what, I think I’m just going to use the washing machine instead.”

Arthur’s smile turned upside down as his eyes grew wider. “The _what_?”

“The washing machine… that thing in the kitchen with the porthole? We use it to wash clothes,” Merlin explained, his own lips curled up smugly.

“Are you saying I could have had a _machine_ do this for me?!”

“Yes.”

“And you made me do this _by myself_ anyway?!” Arthur didn’t try to hide the shock at the audacity of his friend.

“Uhm, yes. For entertainment purposes... my own.”

“That is _treason_ , Merlin, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Merlin didn’t have time to counter anything that Arthur was coming towards him in large steps, head down, like a hunter after his prey. Merlin tried to put some space between himself and Arthur, but the king was faster and stronger, and he grabbed Merlin with an arm around his shoulders and one behind his knees, lifting him up like he weighted no more than a feather.

“No, no, put me down!” Merlin protested, half serious and half laughing, and just a tiny bit flustered that he was in Arthur’s arms like a damsel in distress.

“As you wish,” Arthur said, walking to the bucket and sitting Merlin inside it. Merlin’s narrow hips were almost a perfect fit and sunk in effortlessly, leaving the warlock soaked in dirty laundry water from his knees to his chest.

“What does it feel like to be chilling in my _socks juice_ ,” Arthur said, wiggling his eyebrows, pleased at the revolted face Merlin made at his words.

Merlin tried to lift himself up but realised soon he would have needed some help. “Help me out of here, it’s disgusting.”

“First, I am owed an apology.”

“Help me out of here first.”

Arthur grabbed both of Merlin’s wrists, pulling him out of the bucket. “So?” he prompted.

Instead of apologising, Merlin quickly jumped away and grabbed the garden hose, opening it with full pressure against Arthur's chest, who stepped back with a groan and a “What the…”, raising his arms in front of his body as to protect himself.

Merlin turned it off only after a few seconds, but it was enough for Arthur to be soaked through his clothes and not at all amused. Or perhaps just a bit.

“You want war? You get war,” Arthur declared with a nod of his head, and then he was going after Merlin.

Merlin ran away, first around the garden, his heart fluttering in his chest with amusement and very mild fear and a tiny hint of anticipation, because he knew Arthur was going to get him sooner or later and a part of Merlin wanted him to, just to see what he would do.

Still, he kept putting space between them, running inside the house and into the living room. He squealed when Arthur finally caught up with him from behind, only a few seconds later, and knocked him down onto the floor. Merlin managed to spin around before Arthur sat across his hips holding him down with his weight and pinning the warlock's wrists down at the sides of his head. Both men were panting, and Merlin pretended to struggle for a moment, to keep up the game, to ignore how much he was actually liking having Arthur towering over him like this, having Arthur’s large hands wrapped around his wrists.

He was stunningly _strong_.

“I won,” Arthur breathed, his eyes sparkling with playfulness.

If on one hand Merlin was happy to let him win, on the other he was more eager to keep playing. His eyes glowed with magic and Arthur’s weight was lifted off him, before the startled king fell on his back.

“What the hell, Merlin,” Arthur uttered, the playfulness turned to disconcert. Merlin climbed on top of him and it was him now sitting on Arthur’s hips, his hands on Arthur’s shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor.

“No, _I_ won,” Merlin said with a triumphant smile, and he couldn’t help noticing how Arthur seemed to relax under him after the surprise of being lifted in the air.

He could have freed himself in less than a second if he wanted to but, Merlin observed, Arthur didn’t seem to want to.

“You cheated,” Arthur said, his head leaned back on the floor.

“You use your strengths, I use mine,” Merlin replied with a shrug.

“So I can’t win,” Arthur stated. “You can always throw me off with magic.”

“Yes.”

Arthur seemed to ponder on this piece of information for a moment, and Merlin was about to get up. He didn’t know what was wrong with himself today, but being on top of Arthur like this was giving him strange ideas. One thing was wrestling him, another was just sitting across his lap like this without him struggling at all.

Then Arthur raised his hands, resting them delicately on Merlin’s forearms, a simple touch that got all of Merlin’s attention and unexpectedly sent a wave of electricity down his spine.

“Unless I distract you?” Arthur added softly.

“Unless you what-“

Merlin gasped as Arthur pulled himself up and wrapped an arm around Merlin’s back, rolling him under himself again and sitting on his hips like they were before. Then, Arthur brought his hands to Merlin’s stomach and started tickling him above the wet t-shirt.

Merlin began laughing, loudly, squirming and crossing his arms to protect the targeted area.

“You’re not using magic now, are you,” Arthur said with a grin, watching his friend contort with laughter under him, begging him to stop. “Say I won.”

Merlin was trying to crunch over but Arthur’s hands were everywhere, on his stomach, on his arms, along his sides. He gasped for breath as he felt tears prick his eyes. “Stop!” he sobbed, laughing deliriously.

“Say I won.”

“You won! You won!”

The moment Merlin gave up, Arthur stopped the torture, leaving his friend a breathless mess under him.

Merlin glanced up through his damp lashes to find Arthur’s smile, victorious yet sweet, his hands casually resting on Merlin’s stomach in an oddly intimate way. As he caught his breath, Merlin looked at those hands, splayed open, warmly, protectively, and he fought the urge to cover them with his own. Perhaps feeling self-conscious under Merlin’s gaze, Arthur moved his hands to his own thighs. Neither of them spoke for a second.

“I haven’t seen you smile that much since I came back,” Arthur said in a soft whisper, almost afraid of his words. Merlin pulled himself up on his elbows, warmed by this casual reminder that Arthur still cared a lot about him.

“Watching you handwash all your clothes made me smile quite a lot,” Merlin offered, and Arthur laughed, shaking his head. Then he stood up, leaving Merlin suddenly lighter and colder and wishing for more contact between them. For a second Merlin wanted to go back to the old ways, in which he would help Arthur dress and undress, so that now he could help him out of his wet clothes and get to touch him some more. 

Instead, he got himself up on his feet, a chill running down his spine as his own wet clothes stuck to his skin.

“You don’t smile that much either,” he said, seeking Arthur’s eyes with his own.

“I wouldn’t smile at all if it wasn’t for you.”

Their eyes met and the admission was so sincere that left Merlin speechless, butterflies fluttering in his stomach where Arthur’s hands had been earlier. When Arthur reached out, Merlin believed and hoped with all his being that he was going to pull him into a hug; instead, Arthur squeezed his shoulder, giving Merlin an appreciative nod, like one he used to give his knights.

Then, he walked away, and Merlin watched him disappear upstairs.

*

Merlin used to believe that Arthur would have demanded the throne back upon learning of the current monarch. Instead, he took it unexpectedly well, and even seemed to grow a quick interest in the Queen.

“We got to the throne around the same age,” he said, studying the picture of her coronation in the history book. He rolled the study chair around so that he could face Merlin, also reading in his usual spot. “And she’s still reigning?”

“She is the longest-reigning monarch in our history,” Merlin confirmed.

“How old is she now?”

“Uhm, I can’t remember exactly, but she’s in her 90s. People are very fond of her.”

Arthur could see why. He stroked the grainy, black and white picture with his fingers, seeking and finding himself in that young woman who suddenly became in charge of one of the greatest kingdoms in the world. He still remembered his own coronation day, the excitement of fulfilling his destiny mixed with the fear of failing to live up to everyone’s expectations, and then the grief of his father’s recent death pushed underneath it all. The pressure of a kingdom to lead was suddenly on his shoulders, making that crown heavy as stone.

And, he knew, his kingdom was infinitely smaller than the one she took on, so he could only imagine what she’d felt like – however, he supposed, it must have been somewhat similar to his own feelings. It was hard to describe, but he’d rarely felt so close in spirit to a total stranger before.

“What about the King?” he asked.

“We don’t have a king.”

Arthur finally looked up from the book. “Oh, she also never married? Like that other queen?”

“No, she did marry, he’s still alive actually, but he’s not a king.”

“Didn’t their marriage make him a king, like…” _Like mine made Gwen Queen_ , he wanted to add, but didn’t. “You know.”

“Not quite… they’re not on the same level. She’s the Queen, so she comes first, and he’s second to her,” Merlin attempted to explain. It was a bit more complicated than that but he didn’t quite remember the exact details himself. “He’s the Prince Consort.”

Something that resembled a proud smile appeared on Arthur’s face. “That makes sense.”

“When she passes, the next three people in line of succession are men,” Merlin said next, pushing away the awareness that he was going to live through all their reigns and beyond. “So we’ll have kings for a while after her.”

Arthur simply nodded, distractedly, not quite taking in that piece of information. “Do you have any other books on her specifically? Something more detailed on her life?”

Merlin was positively surprised by the interest Arthur was showing, of all the things he’d been learning in the past days it was the first time he was asking to delve into a topic deeper than the material Merlin had provided.

While he unfortunately had no other books on the subject, this opened the door to another type of lesson that Merlin believed Arthur was ready for.

“I don’t have any books,” Merlin said. “But there’s a tv series on Netflix that tells her story quite in detail. We can watch it, if you want.”

Arthur blinked twice, a deep wrinkle on his forehead. “Are you talking nonsense again?”

Merlin spent the following half an hour introducing Arthur to the concepts of television first, of films and shows, and then of computer and internet, and how all of these came often together.

Arthur listened to and understood the words that his friend was pronouncing, but he failed to grasp the ideas behind them. Understanding the dynamics of the plumbing system or electricity was one thing – whatever Merlin was talking about was something else entirely, like another world inside this world, an alternate reality. Something unthinkable, unsettling. Overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked when he noticed Arthur was zoning out.

“Yeah, it’s, uh… It’s a lot.”

“Let’s go downstairs, maybe it will be easier once you see what I’m talking about.”

They settled on the sofa and Merlin pulled out his laptop from the bottom of the suitcase, where it’d been for almost a week now. He did have a telly in the house, but he hadn’t paid for the license in years, so it was quite useless really. He never watched it anyway, having recently made the switch to streaming services.

“So this is the television?” Arthur asked, eyeing the MacBook suspiciously.

“No, the television is that one,” Merlin replied, pointing at the telly, forgotten in a corner. “This is the computer.”

“I thought that one was just a weird mirror.”

Merlin let Arthur examine the laptop, run his fingers across the keyboard, on the screen, closing it and opening it and then closing it again. Arthur wondered how this thin thing in his hands could do all those things Merlin said.

Almost as an answer, Merlin switched it on, and he swore he could hear Arthur gasp as the screen came to life. Another, more thorough explanation followed, and once again Arthur found himself zoning out; it was too much to follow, too much to take in, and it didn’t look like something he would ever need anyway.

“Can you just skip to film thing?” he asked at some point, growing increasingly frustrated, a mood that Merlin didn’t fail to pick up.

“I know it’s hard, it was hard for me too when I had to learn,” Merlin said, trying to sound as understanding as possible. Back when he became young again a few years earlier, he did struggle with the latest developments – as an old man he hadn’t really bothered keeping up to date. “You’ll get there.”

Arthur hated this. He hated _getting there_. In his times, where he actually belonged, he was good at everything, he picked up things quickly and excelled at them, he even immediately mastered the toilet use, the artificial lights, the buttons, while all of this computer thing was making him feel more stupid than ever, and he absolutely hated it.

“Whatever,” he muttered, looking away.

“You’ll need to learn about phones too, soon,” Merlin said. “I’ll get you one, everyone has one these days.”

“Phone? Isn’t that the thing that makes you speak to people even if they’re not around?”

“Uh, yeah, but it also does the same things a computer does.”

“I don’t want a phone, I don’t need one,” Arthur said dryly. “You’re always around anyway.”

Merlin bit his lower lip, feeling Arthur’s frustration like his own. He used to be like this as a king too, hating on things he couldn’t quite excel at. He forced out a smile, trying to cheer him up.

“Once you have one and know how to use it, you’ll love it,” Merlin said. “It might take a while, but then you’ll feel like the whole world is in your hand.”

“I said I don’t want one,” Arthur repeated. “Are we watching the film or not?”

He heard Merlin sigh and do something on the laptop, and decided to look away. He already had too many questions whose answer he wasn’t going to understand, he didn’t feel like coming up with more.

The film itself, or tv series, as Merlin kept calling it, he rather enjoyed. It was like the exhibition of one of those court jesters in Camelot, just more intricate and better executed, but he understood the basics of it, he knew what theatre was. Then, as Merlin had explained earlier, someone had filmed it, that is, a number of photographs in very quick succession (and Merlin had explained the mechanics of a photograph). The only part he missed was how they’d come to him – Merlin said the films weren’t stored in the computer, but rather in the Internet, and Arthur hadn’t seen the Internet anywhere in the living room. Still, this missing piece of the puzzle wasn’t distracting him too much from the story itself.

His favourite part however wasn’t the story, nor the gorgeous actress playing the Queen – it was the setting, the bigger picture, seeing for the first time what the world looked like these days. So far he’d only see Merlin’s house, his street, and the fields around the footpath, they never went beyond that. Thanks to this show, he was now learning what current castles looked like and what a Prime Minister was, he was learning that people could fly – and it wasn’t magic – and mostly, he was learning what London looked like.

“It’s like a window, of sorts,” he commented out loud.

“You can think of the whole internet like that,” Merlin said. “Like a window.” Glancing to the side he could see Arthur seemed more relaxed now, less upset. His stubborn arse was going to love technology one day, Merlin was sure of it, but he wanted to give him time. Arthur had already learned so much in the past week about the modern world, and he was right after all, he didn’t really need a phone right now.

“When are we going to the village?” Arthur asked. He’d seen what London looked like before even going there, but Merlin still hadn’t taken him to the village, and he knew they were going to leave for London soon.

“We can go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is.”

*

“Merlin, can you stop _lurking_ please,” Arthur said, buttoning up his pyjama shirt, sensing Merlin’s presence just outside the semi-open bedroom door.

“I was about to walk in,” Merlin said defensively, doing just that. “We’re starting the second book tonight.”

He sat on the bed in his usual spot, turning the ancient book in his hands, as eager to rediscover some more memories as he was to get close to Arthur, finally.

“It’s been a week, you know,” he added, still stroking the book cover with a hand. “Since you came back.”

Arthur settled in under the duvet, pulling it back up to cover his legs. After the first couple of nights, he’d started doing that by himself, much to Merlin’s disappointment.

“Already a week, wow,” Arthur commented. “Since one of the worst nights ever.”

Merlin’s eyes snapped up towards his friend to his right. He knew very well how Arthur felt about the whole being alive again thing, but hearing him say that out loud never failed to send a pang to his stomach.

“Really?” Merlin asked tentatively.

“I mean, one moment I was warm… safe… at peace…” Arthur reminisced. “And the next I was cold, wet, surrounded by darkness. Not the best night.” Then, he shrugged. “But I suppose it is what it is.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it was the same for me,” Merlin joked. “I was in this very bed, almost falling asleep, and I had to go out in the sodding rain to fetch you.”

Surprisingly, Arthur snickered. “It does make me feel better.”

Merlin couldn’t help snickering too.

He opened the book on the first page, his heart fluttering in anticipation, and immediately found the handwriting didn’t belong to himself. The letters were rounder, the angles softer, the entire sentences looked harmonious, like waves of the sea. He glanced at the signature: _Queen Guinevere of Camelot._

“It’s Gwen’s,” he said out loud. “Gwen wrote this.”

Arthur leaned closer, a warm smile appearing on his face as he recognised his wife’s writing style. “Read.”

_My beloved Arthur…_

As he read, Merlin remembered the moment, one year after Arthur’s death, when he finally took courage and told Gwen about the prophecy. He remembered how happy she was at the idea that one day she would have her husband back, and how excited she was to write in the diary for him.

_I shall await your return, my love, as not even death can do us part._

_Yours forever,_

_Queen Guinevere of Camelot_

“Did she… did she ever remarry?” Arthur asked when Merlin was done with the reading. A part of him had wanted to know all along.

Merlin sighed. “Only later in life.”

“Who did she marry?” Arthur asked.

“King Ethelred of Mercia. Also a widower.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Cenred’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“What?! Why?!”

“The throne needed an heir and the kingdom needed an ally. She had no children and no living siblings, Ethelred had two sons from his late wife. It was a calculated decision on her side,” Merlin explained.

“Was she in love with him?” Arthur asked, his eyes nervously fixed on his friend’s face.

“No… she never loved anyone else but you.”

In hindsight, Merlin thought, maybe he shouldn’t have told Gwen about Arthur’s return. She ended up spending her whole life waiting for him, never allowing herself another chance at love. She always said she was happy anyway, that she was married to her people and that their happiness brought her the greatest joys, and in all honesty, Merlin did believe her. Still, in the years that followed her death he couldn’t help wondering whether she would have done something different if she hadn’t known about the prophecy.

In his own defence, back then Merlin never thought the wait would have lasted beyond her lifetime, let alone centuries on end.

Arthur shifted on the bed, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. “Do you see why I have to go back to her, sooner or later,” he whispered, slumping further down under the duvet, his eyes to the ceiling.

Merlin too swallowed. No matter how much it hurt him to hear this, nobody understood grief more than him.

“I do, yes.”

Arthur gave him a tiny, grateful smile. He fixed the pillow up with his hands before sinking his head down in it again. “Keep reading.”

The following entry was yet another type of handwriting, another style, larger letters, shaky at times, a bit uncertain, lines curving downwards.

Gaius.

It was Merlin’s turn, now, to smile warmly with nostalgia. When Balinor died, Merlin had told him he didn’t know what having a father was like. When Gaius died, peacefully in his sleep, just a couple of years after Arthur, Merlin realised that he’d had a father all along.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall anything about Gaius at all, but just like for his mother and anyone else he’d met in the first few centuries of his life, his memory failed him. Gaius too was lost to the inexorable passing of time, only his fatherly love surviving him to this day. That, and the passion for healing people he’d helped Merlin cultivate.

He started reading.

*

Merlin promised Arthur they were going to the town centre this afternoon and he had all the intentions to keep the promise. He had no reason not to; although Arthur still wasn’t familiar with technology at all, he now knew about most things, therefore a trip to Glastonbury’s High Street was going to be a helpful first step before the chaos of London.

There was, however, one last thing Arthur needed to learn about.

“What else now?” Arthur asked, a bit annoyed and just vaguely concerned of what newest development he was going to face next.

Plus, he was ready to go outside and meet his people, wearing that nice denim jacket Merlin got for him. He’d been waiting to wear it all week.

Merlin pulled down the stairs to the loft, his own heart beating just a bit faster, wondering how Arthur was going to react this time. “You’ll see,” he said, taking a first step up the ladder and encouraging Arthur to follow.

The loft was dark, dusty, the ceiling barely high enough to stand up straight in the middle section. There was no natural light, except the one coming from the open hatch. Merlin pulled a cord and a lightbulb buzzed on.

Wherever he looked, Arthur’s eyes landed on boxes, some wooden ones and some made in those modern materials that Merlin had named as cardboard and plastics.

It took a few minutes for Merlin to find what he was looking for, while Arthur kept asking what they were looking for and if he could go do something else in the meantime while Merlin moved the boxes around.

When Merlin finally pushed forward a plastic storage box which turned out to be full of books, Arthur sighed, crossing his arms to his chest.

“More books?”

Merlin bit his lower lip, nervously, as he pulled the lid open. “There is something I haven’t told you.”

Arthur’s arm fell to his sides again, now increasingly concerned. “What is it?”

Merlin took a deep breath, glancing down at his collection of volumes and then up again at his friend, who was standing there, waiting almost anxiously for an answer.

“Merlin, what is it?” Arthur prompted again, walking closer. The volumes in the box looked old but not as old as the diaries from Camelot, and some of them carried the same name, 'Historia Regum Britanniae'.

“When you died… I told everyone about you. I told them your story, what you did,” Merlin started. “I told people of our adventures together, and about your destiny of becoming the greatest king the world has ever known. I wanted you to be remembered.”

Arthur picked up one of the books, scrolling through the pages. The language wasn’t exactly current, but he could still understand most of it. When suddenly his eyes fell on his own name, it clicked.

“You wrote a book about me?” he asked tentatively.

“I didn’t, no.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin with a frown, and Merlin continued the story.

“I told people about you, and they told their friends… and their children… generations of people continued sharing your story,” he said softly. “And they loved you and admired you so much that they started making up their own stories about you... you became a legend.”

Legend. At that word, Arthur’s heart skipped a beat, his mind struggling to make sense of what Merlin was saying.

“This was the first book someone wrote about you,” Merlin continued, pointing at the volume Arthur was holding. “That’s a later version, but the first one started circulating six centuries after your death.”

Merlin remembered the surprise, the shock even, when he came across Arthur’s name, and his own name, in this book, written in Latin by a random guy who Merlin could never trace.

“To this day, people keep writing books about you… and making films, and theatre plays…”

Merlin continued talking, something about how the stories didn’t quite match what really happened, but Arthur had stopped listening, his eyes fixed somewhere in the void in front of him, his mind lost somewhere different.

In this world, where nothing was the same, where not a single thing he knew had stood the test of time, _he_ did. Centuries, millennia after he passed, not only did people know he existed, but they knew who he was, what he’d done.

“People know me? They know my name?” he asked tentatively.

Merlin stopped whatever he was saying. “Yes. Everyone knows King Arthur of Camelot. Not just in England, everywhere.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. Everywhere in the world,” Merlin repeated, more firmly, his hands in his back pockets, a proud smile appearing on his face. He’d wanted Arthur to be remembered, and remembered he was. “You are a legend.”

Arthur took it in, gradually, mindlessly browsing through the pages, occasionally finding more familiar names. “Not just me, right?” he asked, and Merlin immediately understood what Arthur wanted to know.

“Everyone knows of the great love between Arthur and Guinevere,” he said softly, the Queen’s name finally getting Arthur’s eyes to meet his own. The blue of them was even darker, deep with emotion, like a storm in the open ocean. “And of the brave knights of the Round Table… and of the kingdom of King Uther… and even of Merlin, the powerful sorcerer.”

Arthur’s lips twitched up in a smile, and Merlin mirrored him. Arthur knew now, he knew all of it, everything Merlin did for him long after his death.

“I might not have saved your life when it mattered, but I kind of did, don’t you think?” Merlin said. “After that. I kept you alive in a way… the only way I could.”

Something changed across Arthur’s face, a new awareness, as he closed the book and put it back in the box. Then, he walked closer to Merlin, closing the distance between them completely as he enveloped him in his arms.

Merlin tried unsuccessfully to suppress a startled gasp when Arthur’s arms came to wrap around his waist, slowly and delicately as if Merlin was made of glass. This was nothing like the hug they shared in the kitchen that day, angry and instinctive, this was loving and soft and Merlin could feel the whole of Arthur’s warm body pressed against his own, his head nestled on his shoulder, his hair tickling Merlin’s neck. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur too, squeezing, inhaling the scent of their shower cream and some residual after shave, reeling in the feeling of being held by Arthur in a perfect embrace, something he’d longed for his whole existence.

And then, out of nowhere, Merlin was crying. He couldn’t tell why exactly. Perhaps it was the hug itself, the overwhelming joy of finally receiving it, or perhaps Arthur’s gratefulness, or both, or something different, but Merlin wept against Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur tightened his wrap around him.

“I did it all for you,” Merlin whispered, his voice trembling, his hands grabbing Arthur’s jacket in fists, trying to get even closer to him even though it wasn’t possible. “Only for you.”

“I know, I know,” Arthur said, rubbing soothing lines down Merlin’s back. The awareness that Arthur knew, and that he appreciated him for it, made Merlin break down in a loud sob. Arthur kept holding him without saying a word.

When he felt Arthur’s body pull away, Merlin had to comply, sad that the hug was already over, his face still scrunched from crying now bared under Arthur’s eyes. Merlin waited for Arthur to take a step back, to put further distance between them, to signal the end of the moment. Instead, Arthur’s hand softly landed on Merlin’s nape, pulling him forward, and a second later the king’s lips were on Merlin’s forehead, pressing a kiss above his curls.

“Thank you for everything, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, seeking his friend’s red-rimmed eyes with his own, his hand still on his nape, brushing with his thumb. “Words cannot express how grateful I am to you.”

Merlin could feel the tears running down his cheeks again, warmed by Arthur’s words and gestures so much that he could feel his own insides melting, and he shamelessly went in for another hug, burying his nose in Arthur’s neck.

Arthur welcomed him again, holding him, happy to provide whatever his friend was in need of.

If it was for Merlin, he would have stayed in Arthur’s arms forever, but he knew they had to part at some point, and he didn’t want to overburden Arthur with his mood. Once he felt his breath had calmed down, he reluctantly let go.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked softly.

Merlin nodded, sniffling and drying his own residual tears on his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“You’ve got snot on your face,” Arthur said, cocking his head, as Merlin immediately searched his pockets for a tissue, a bit embarrassed to be seen like this.

While Merlin blew his nose, loudly, Arthur glanced around the rest of the room, a sudden new curiosity in his mind. “What are all the other boxes?”

“Oh… it, uh, it doesn’t matter,” Merlin replied with a shrug, his voice still hoarse. “They’re not about you.”

“I want to know.”

Merlin followed his friend’s eyes around the barely lit room, a lump forming in his throat all over again. “They are… memories. From everyone I’ve met in the years. So that I can remember them.”

“Don’t you remember anyway?”

“Fifteen centuries is a long time,” Merlin said with a sad smile. “You forget a lot of things.”

Arthur nodded.

“When I realised I was forgetting people, that’s when I started collecting things… paintings, letters, other stuff they used to own. So that I never forget anyone I’ve loved anymore.”

Arthur’s gaze ran around the room, struggling to make sense of an existence as long as Merlin’s had been. He himself never believed he could forget anyone important, but perhaps fifteen centuries were indeed a long time.

“So there are people you… forgot?” he asked, uncertainly, hoping he wasn’t heading into too painful territories. When no answer came, he searched Merlin’s face and found the truth in his eyes, filled with sorrow.

“Camelot,” Arthur whispered. “You don’t remember our friends.”

Merlin nodded. “The diaries are helping, but no… And the following couple of centuries too.”

“Not even Gaius?”

“I remember he existed. I remember I loved him. Same goes for everyone else… I remember them, but at the same time I don’t remember them at all.”

Saying it out loud was a whole new type of grief, and Merlin had to blink twice in quick succession to avoid crying again in front of Arthur.

The king nodded, his heart aching for his friend. He wanted to ask if he’d forgotten him too, but he believed he already knew the answer and didn’t want Merlin to have to confirm it to his face.

“Are your wives in here too?” Arthur asked instead, walking closer to the boxes. “You got married at some point, right?”

“Yes and no,” Merlin replied. “A couple of them are… not the very first one, though. And then I stopped getting married.”

It was awful to say he had forgotten about the first woman he decided to marry, probably in his second or third lifetime. He did love her, very much, he was sure of it, but she disappeared too, like everyone else.

“Why did you stop taking wives?” Arthur asked.

Merlin hesitated. “I realised I would have had to leave them to follow you, if you came back. That wouldn’t have been fair on anyone,” was his answer. Partly true yes, but also it was unbearably painful to bound himself to someone in marriage and know he never belonged to them the same way he belonged to Arthur. To know that no matter how much he loved them, those women were never his destiny.

“No children either?”

“No.” Merlin’s voice came so abrupt and decisive that Arthur turned around with a frown.

“You never wanted children? Not even once?”

“And what, risk passing on the curse of an endless existence to an innocent? Never.”

Arthur was taken aback at first by the resoluteness of Merlin’s words, wondering if there was something else beneath. He would have loved to have children with Guinevere, but they never came, and not for lack of trying. He suspected it was his own fault – he was never meant to be, in a way, his life caused someone else’s death. Probably he just wasn’t destined to reproduce.

He accepted his friend’s answer and brought his attention back to the boxes, brushing some of them with his fingers. “Will you show me?”

“Show you what?”

“I want to get to know these people,” Arthur said softy. He realised he never asked much about Merlin’s life in the centuries, but now he wanted to know all about it. “Show me what’s inside the boxes.”

“No. Not now. I can’t.”

It was unusual of Merlin to deny him something, and Arthur walked closer to Merlin again, prepared to ask why. He didn’t need to. He’d been so busy looking at the boxes that he hadn’t noticed his friend’s eyes were glossy again, wet with tears.

“Will you show me, one day?”

Merlin smiled with gratitude. “Yes. I promise.”

When Arthur smiled back, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, Merlin took it as an invite and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, his chin nestled once again in the curve of Arthur’s neck. They were almost equally tall which made the hug simply perfect, they just fit together like they were born to. This was it, Merlin thought, this was where he was supposed to be, pressed up against Arthur.

Arthur, instead, patted his friend’s shoulder twice and then let his own arm drop to his sides with a heavy sigh.

“Come on, Merlin,” he said half annoyed, half amused, trying to wiggle out of Merlin’s squeeze. “We’ve hugged enough for one day. Let’s go, I want to see Glastonbury.”

“Ugh, you’re a prat, you know that?” Merlin groaned as he pulled away.

Arthur had already started walking towards the hatch. “You used to say I was a _clotpole_.”

“A _what_?”

Arthur chuckled. He had the same reaction the first time he heard the word. “You don’t remember? You used it all the time… and there was another word too, what was it?”

Merlin shook his head apologetically. He had no idea what Arthur was talking about.

Arthur felt saddened that Merlin didn’t remember their shared jokes but made it his mission to freshen Merlin’s memory where he could. “That’s fine, it’ll come back to me,” he said as he took a first step down the ladder.

*

Glastonbury wasn’t anything like most towns in England; something had spared it from globalisation, his reputation perhaps, the type of people it attracted every year. The high street was filled with independent cafes and original shops selling every type of mystical looking object or book, while it lacked most of the usual high street chains. No M&S, no Waterstones, not even a Costa. Glastonbury was like its own world, one that Arthur was loving very much.

Merlin thoroughly enjoyed looking at his friend exploring this tiny corner of world and wanting to walk in every single shop, commenting the things he saw, extatically touching and grabbing everything that caught his attention until Merlin advised he wasn’t supposed to touch what he wasn’t planning on buying. There were quite a few things Arthur would have loved to buy, but Merlin outright refused all of them, labelling them as “too expensive” or “useless” or often both.

He only indulged when Arthur declared he wanted to buy something from the Excalibur café, and they both walked out with a hot latte warming their hands in the crisp air.

Overall, Arthur’s favourite part of the town was seeing familiar names all around him, including his own. He had believed Merlin when he said Arthur had become a legend, his name known by every man on earth, but seeing it with his own eyes was a different feeling.

After they visited each and every shop along the high street, Merlin took Arthur to his own favourite spot, the remains of the Abbey. One thing, in particular, he believed Arthur would have liked to see.

“The legend says this is where you’re buried,” Merlin explained, as they stood in front of a plaque that was supposed to identify the burial ground of King Arthur. “You and Gwen.”

Arthur smiled softly. “Do you think she’s here for real?”

“Probably not… the same way you aren’t.”

Merlin remembered Guinevere was buried inside the castle when she passed, like all her predecessors. However, once the castle was looted and subsequently burned to the ground, he had no idea where her body went. He liked to think every bit of her was returned to the earth.

Much to his surprise, Arthur didn’t seem to want to know.

“It’s nice that people still thought we should be buried together, me and her,” he said instead. Merlin agreed.

“Do you want to go to the Tor?” he asked next. “It’s a bit far but we can walk there.”

“The Tor?”

“It’s, uh… the tower. It’s where I found you last week.”

Arthur hesitated. “Maybe not… not today.”

Their final stop before heading back home was the pub.

“I’m glad to see you still enjoy a trip to the tavern,” Arthur commented cheekily. “Some things never change.”

Merlin pretended he knew what Arthur was talking about.

They ordered a pint and then another, and a number of nibbles, as Merlin told Arthur about how the legend actually differed from their real story. Maybe it was due to the alcohol, but Arthur found it hilarious.

“Why would they assume you’re that much older than me?!” Arthur asked, lifting a chip off the plate and watching the cheese form a delicious-looking string.

“I have no idea!” Merlin shrugged after a sip of his beer.

It was dark outside by the time they walked home. Arthur shuddered in his denim jacket, crossing his arms to his chest to preserve warmth, and Merlin had to stop himself from snaking an arm around his shoulders to pull him close.

“If London is anything like this, I can’t wait to see it,” Arthur said once they got home. He’d had a quick preview on The Crown but, he imagined, it was nothing like walking her streets in person.

Merlin reckoned if there was a polar opposite of Glastonbury, that was probably London. “London is a bit different.”

“Different how?”

Where to begin. “It’s, uh, bigger, first of all. Louder. Can be a bit hectic, but there’s so much going on every day. It’s just more…” he couldn’t think of a suitable word. He kicked away his shoes and left them on the side of the door, ready to pack. “More.”

“More what?”

“It’s hard to explain… it’s just different. It’s nothing like Glastonbury, really.”

“Which one do you prefer?”

Merlin was taken aback by that question. Glastonbury was home, in a way, it was where he always came back to and where he’d waited, for the good part of fifteen centuries, for Arthur. Glastonbury had that mystical vibe and people who believed, albeit wrongly, that magic still existed, giving Merlin a chance to feel as if the passing of time had slowed down.

But London, oh, London had a soul of her own, one that had stolen his heart a couple of centuries earlier. If Glastonbury felt still in time, London was ever-changing, growing and adapting, there was always something new to discover about her, something that would leave him in speechless admiration. Where Glastonbury was a world of its own, London was _the_ world, thriving and buzzing with life like a beating heart.

“They’re too different to compare,” he replied eventually. “I like both of them in their own way.”

As Arthur placed his jacket on the coat hanger, a shadow of concern clouded his face. “Do you think I’ll like London too?”

Merlin smiled softly. “I think you will.”

At least he hoped so.

*

When morning came, Merlin packed everything. His own things, that he’d been shamelessly wearing for the whole week with only one round of washing and more Febreze than he’d like to admit, fit neatly into the suitcase. Arthur’s things he had to fit into random bags, realising that he probably should have got him a suitcase too. Then, he shoved everything in the car boot.

When Arthur joined him outside, a wave of apprehension washed over him. “Do we need to take the car to get to London?” he asked.

“Well, yes, it’s quite far,” Merlin replied, his head hidden behind the boot.

“How long would it take to walk there?”

The boot closed with a thud. “Two days or so?”

“And how long to drive?”

“Three hours... ish? Possibly four, depending on how the traffic is and how many stops we do.”

Merlin walked inside to grab more bags as Arthur involuntarily clenched his jaw. They were about to go quite fast, then.

“Are you nervous?” Merlin asked as he prepared to lock the door.

“Of course not!” Arthur replied promptly, perhaps giving away his true mood.

“Scared?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

When they were ready to leave, Arthur took the passenger seat next to Merlin. He would have preferred to sit in the back, but didn’t want Merlin to think he was afraid. Then he followed his friend’s instructions on car safety and fastened his seatbelt, which was apparently designed to prevent people from smashing their head against the windscreen, not really a calming thought.

He really wanted to appear calm and composed. Inside, however, he was on the verge of freaking out.

“Just relax, I’ll go slow at first, okay?” Merlin said softly, turning the key as the motor came alive with a roar.

Arthur did everything in his power not to jump. “I _am_ relaxed, Merlin. Stop implying I’m scared or something.”

Arthur actually managed to relax quite soon as Merlin did go slow, probably only slightly faster than a stallion at full speed, he reckoned. The ride was somewhat enjoyable, even; the road out of Glastonbury was narrow and followed the hills, up and down, in the middle of the forest. Arthur enjoyed looking out of the window as the landscape flowed under his eyes. He lowered the window with Merlin’s permission and stuck his hand out, marvelling at the feeling of an unusually strong wind between his fingers.

“We’re going to go on a bigger road now, so I have to speed up a bit, okay?” Merlin said at some point.

When he did, Arthur braced himself. This was definitely faster than any horse he’d ever ridden, and he felt just a bit nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur replied, swallowing; he really wanted to avoid being sick if at all possible.

Merlin glanced at his side, noticing his friend was a bit paler than usual. “Let me put on some music.” He pulled over on the first layby he found and fidgeted with his phone until he found the playlist he wanted. During the week he’d given Arthur an overview of what music sounded like these days, but he believed some classical pieces would be the best option to help the king calm down.

In the meantime, Arthur opened the door to enjoy some fresh air, already feeling better, the nausea fading away.

“If you wanted to stop, you could have said so earlier,” Merlin said as he connected his phone to the car speakers.

“Don’t be silly, Merlin, I’m perfectly fine. I can handle some speed.”

“Sure.”

Merlin’s playlist of classical song started playing. The tune filled the car, startling Arthur for a second.

“Where is the music coming from?” he asked, before his glance fell on the phone. “Is the Internet in the car now?!”

“Uhm, sort of, yes,” Merlin said. Arthur was still to grasp the fact that the Internet was not an object one could carry around. “Let me know what you think of the music.”

Arthur didn’t think much at first; soon, however, as they restarted the drive, Arthur grew to like the harmonies first, and to really like some of them.

“This piece is beautiful,” he said of one particular melody.

Merlin glanced at the phone. _Eine kleine Nachtmusik_. One of his favourites too.

He told Arthur about Mozart and how, once, Merlin met him when he was barely a child and already a musical genius. When little Wolfgang fell ill after his concert in London, Merlin had the honour to treat him and his father, before sending them back home to Austria. It was for him and thanks to him that Merlin ended up learning German.

Arthur didn’t know if it was the tunes themselves, so utterly beautiful and perfectly executed, or Merlin’s stories about his young friend Wolfgang, and then music in general, but he managed to relax for real, so much that at some point his eyelids grew heavier.

He was almost about to doze off when Merlin pulled over again.

“We’re one third of the way to London,” he said. “But we’re about to merge into the motorway, which means I have to go much faster. Okay?”

Arthur groaned, upset that his almost slumber was interrupted for this. “I don’t care Merlin, do what you have to do.”

The music was still on, Merlin’s phone display now read _Für Elise_ , a soothing piano tune. Arthur rested his head back, confident that all his fear had disappeared for good. Plus, how much faster could they possibly go, really.

How wrong he was.

The motorway was ridiculously large, much wider than the roads they’d taken so far. It had three carriages instead of one, and it was so much busier, and the car sped up so fast and so suddenly that Arthur wondered if they were going to lift off the ground. Arthur’s stomach twisted as his breakfast threatened to come up again.

“Can we slow down a bit?” he asked.

“No, we can’t… there’s a minimum speed on this type of road, otherwise it gets dangerous,” Merlin explained. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yes, sure.” Arthur swallowed and closed his eyes, focusing on the music. He knew soon he’d get used to the speed again, he just needed a moment.

Then, Merlin pressed down on the accelerator some more, and Arthur felt himself both sweating and shivering at the same time.

“Actually no, I’m not okay, I feel sick, you have to pull over,” he said, realising he was going to throw up any second now.

“What?!”

“I’m going to be sick, pull over, _right now_!”

Arthur brought a hand to his mouth as Merlin threw the car into the first free layby he could see. They had barely stopped that Arthur was pushing the door open and reversing the contents of his stomach onto the asphalt, the retching sounds reaching Merlin’s concerned ears.

“Arthur, are you okay?” Merlin asked again, resting a hand against Arthur’s back and feeling it slightly damp through the t-shirt. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Arthur coughed again but nothing else came out. Apart from the disgusting taste in his mouth, he was already feeling better.

“Do you have a tissue?”

Merlin provided one immediately and Arthur used it to wipe his mouth.

“I feel better already,” he said next, sitting up straight against the seat. A slight flush of embarrassment covered his cheeks in red.

Merlin smiled. That _prat_ almost threw up all over his car just because he didn’t want to admit sooner that he wasn’t okay with the speed. “Will you let me know if you feel poorly again?”

“I will.”

Arthur didn’t feel sick again. They continued their journey to London, Act one of _La Traviata_ playing in the background. At some point, Arthur fell asleep.


	5. I'm dying to meet you

Arthur woke up after an unknown amount of time when the car came to a stop. By then, they weren’t on the big road anymore. He groaned, stretching his arms and almost punching Merlin in the face. “Are we there?”

“Almost,” Merlin replied, pulling the handbrake. “I thought we should get some groceries while I have the car out. Are you coming in or waiting here?”

“I am coming in, I’m not going to stay here and wait around for you!” Arthur said, almost offended, before realising he had no idea where they were going. They were in the middle of a space filled with other parked cars, all gathered in front of a wide but short glass building, topped with a red sign – Tesco.

“Is this the farmer’s market?” he asked next, making Merlin almost laugh.

“Uh… almost. It’s the twenty-first century equivalent.”

As they walked in, Merlin instructed Arthur not to touch anything and to let him know if there was something he wanted to try. Also, he suggested he shouldn’t be too enthusiastic out loud. The final result was an hour-long shopping trip that cost Merlin three times what he would normally spend on his weekly groceries.

They drove a few more minutes to their final destination, as Arthur gazed at his surroundings with attention through the window, the amount of people and buildings and not much nature in sight, not nearly as much as in Glastonbury, just the odd tree and garden here and there.

Merlin’s flat was somewhere near Holland Park, in Kensington. Everyone he met wondered how he could possibly afford to own a flat in W8 on a nurse salary, and he always replied the same thing, that he had inherited a large sum of money from his deceased uncle and that buying property was the best investment, and also it was proving cheaper than renting on a monthly basis. It was almost the true story, except of course his deceased uncle was actually his older self.

He parked the car on the side of the road, thanking the heavens he could find a spot without having to circle the block for an hour. “Right, we’re here.”

“Which one is it?”

“This one,” Merlin said, tapping the window on his right.

Arthur got off the car and looked at the building in awe; a large, six-storey building, with a beautiful bright red brick façade and so many windows that he could barely count. From side to side, it must have been at least a dozen. He would learn later on that these buildings were called mansion blocks.

“This is more like it!” he commented, as Merlin joined him on the pavement. “No offence but your house in Glastonbury was a bit _cramped_ , this stunning mansion is more suited to a king.”

“Uh, I don’t own the whole building…”

Arthur’s smile turned upside down. “What?”

“I only own one flat, on the third floor… sorry to disappoint.”

Much to Arthur’s disappointment, the flat was indeed much smaller than the house in Glastonbury. The door opened on a very small corridor that led to kitchen and bathroom on the right hand side, and living room on the left hand side, while the bedroom was directly in front of them.

“This is too small,” he said, dropping two bags with his clothes loudly on the floor.

“We’ll have to make do.”

Merlin realised it was indeed quite small. It always worked for him and he imagine it would be also well suited to a couple, but not to two people needing their own space. He sighed, staring at the bedroom, thinking of where to place a second bed and a second wardrobe that Arthur was going to need for his stuff.

As if he could sense his friend’s worries, Arthur walked behind Merlin and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re right, we’ll make do.”

*

They spent the rest of the day going through all the house appliances again, with Merlin stressing again and again what his shift pattern entailed, that is, that he was not going to be around 8-18 for four days a week, plus the occasional on call night. Which, consequently, meant Arthur had to really be able to survive without setting the house on fire.

“You’re going to be away for ages every day, what am I supposed to do?!” Arthur protested.

Merlin knew Arthur would have needed to find a job at some point, and ideally a hobby or two, but for now Merin just provided more books that he believed Arthur should read, and showed him how to operate the telly and Firestick.

“You can keep watching The Crown, you still have quite a few episodes left,” he said, pressing on the remote to select Netflix. “Or you can choose something else… see, here, each picture is a film or a series, and if you click on it, it tells you what the plot is about.”

Arthur muttered something about how he really hated this techy stuff, but still ended up grabbing the remote and trying his hand at it.

They went for a walk too, at some point, exploring the immediate neighbourhood and some of Notting Hill. It was a peaceful area, very residential but super central at the same time, and not quite as touristy as other areas, though that film with Hugh Grant certainly didn’t help.

The thing that got Arthur’s attention most, however, wasn’t the architecture, or the people, but the sky. In Glastonbury, the sky was peaceful, even when it was rainy, all he could see when he looked up was clouds and the infinite blue. The London sky was full of planes, and helicopters, and even in the night the stars were nowhere to be seen.

“Now that I’ve seen London, I can go out by myself while you’re away,” Arthur declared once they got back home.

“You have seen a fraction of _one_ neighbourhood,” Merlin clarified. “It’s best if you stay in, for your own safety. Also you don’t have the keys to come back in if you leave.” But really, overall, having Arthur wander around London by himself, without a phone and without knowing how to use one, was probably number one of Merlin’s list of nightmares, together with flat on fire.

“What is this, a prison?! I am free to do what I want, you don’t get to give me orders,” Arthur retorted obstinately. He was aware of his own lack of knowledge, and he didn’t feel ready to go out alone, but he didn’t want Merlin to be the one telling him what to do.

Merlin had to refrain himself from rolling his eyes. Stubborn arse. “Fine. Do what you want.”

Arthur was pleased with having the option, and he decided that it was best for him to stay in the house, for his own safety.

When bedtime came, Merlin just couldn’t wait to sleep in a bed again, after a week of being curled up on an old sofa.

“What?! _You_ are taking the bed?!” Arthur asked incredulous, when Merlin called it a night after watching the series one finale of The Crown.

“It’s my bed. And I have work in the morning, I need to be rested,” Merlin said getting up from the sofa.

“And you’d have _me_ sleep on the _sofa_?!”

“Don’t you worry, _Sire_ , I’ll buy a bed for you. Your royal arse will sleep here only for a few days.”

Arthur snorted but didn’t say anything more.

After they both got changed, Merlin waited in the bedroom so that the reading could begin. This time it was his turn to be all snug under the duvet, on the soft mattress, and he was expecting Arthur to sit on top of the covers, like Merlin used to do. Instead, when Arthur came, he naturally slid under the duvet as if he’d been waiting to the whole day.

A shiver ran down Merlin’s spine as he wondered how being above or below the duvet could make such a massive difference. Arthur felt so much closer now, his body heat propagating in the bed, and Merlin realised he could just move his leg a bit to his right and he would encounter Arthur’s one. It felt intimate in a way the previous nights hadn’t.

“Are you reading or not?” Arthur prompted him, sliding further down the bed to stay warmer.

Merlin read, as always, until he glanced at the clock and he decided it was definitely time to get some sleep or he would curse his own name in the morning.

“Right, time for you to go,” Merlin said, gently laying the old book on the nightstand.

Arthur glanced up at him, he’d slid down so far that the duvet was now covering his chest. “I think I should have the bed.”

“I told you, I have to work, I need to get some proper sleep.”

“What if we share?” Arthur suggested casually, giving Merlin some good puppy eyes, and God he really was cute, wasn’t he, Merlin thought, his whole body almost tingling, desperate to give Arthur a cuddle. The truth was, Merlin loved the idea of sharing the bed, of having Arthur so very close, of Arthur being the first thing he’d see in the morning, and the last in the evening before he fell asleep.

However, he loved playing equally as much.

He pretended to think about Arthur’s suggestion, making the whole scene of tapping his chin with his index finger. “I think I’d rather have my bed to myself, thanks,” he said eventually. Then, his eyes glowed as magic dragged Arthur out of the bed and onto the floor.

Arthur wasn’t pleased. “ _Mer_ lin!” he said as he stood up, crossing his arms to his chest.

“Sharing wasn’t an option when _I_ was on the sofa, was it,” Merlin said simply. “Good night!”

Arthur muttered a frowned good night as he left the room.

It was the middle of the night when Merlin was awoken from his sleep to hear a padded walking sound in the room getting closer to the bed. He was used to being alone in the house, so every unusual sound could wake him up. A second later, the mattress dipped on one side as Arthur lay down his weight next to Merlin, in complete silence, unaware his friend was already awake.

Merlin smiled against the pillow. “Hog the sheets and you’re flying on the floor again,” he whispered.

He could feel Arthur stiffen for a moment, clearly caught red-handed. He relaxed almost immediately. “M’kay.”

They fell asleep on their sides, facing away from each other.

*

Merlin would always wake up just a minute or two before his alarm went off, it was as if his body knew it was time to wake up and wanted to spare his brain the trauma of the beeping sound.

When he blinked his eyes open, that morning, the room was still pitch black. He had a hate and love relationship with these days at the end of October right before the clocks went back; he hated waking up and feeling as if it was still the middle of the night, but at the same time he got to enjoy the sunrise as he went to work, and loved the colours of it. Fifteen hundred years on this planet and he still loved the oranges and pinks that coloured the sky in the morning and evening.

As his mind came awake, wondering how many minutes exactly he still had before the alarm, he became aware something was different. He was lying on his back and Arthur’s arm was draped across Merlin’s stomach, loosely, without squeezing or grabbing, it was just there as if that was were it’d always been. Arthur’s leg too was covering both of Merlin’s, the weight heavier on the right one. Merlin glanced at his right side to find Arthur’s head snugly sunk in the pillow just a few inches from his own, so close that Merlin could hear his regular breaths but not close enough that he could feel them on his neck. Merlin wished there was some light in the room, other than the streetlight filtering through the curtains; that way, he would be able to study Arthur’s face, take it in, revel in that secret pleasure of watching his king sleep without being caught.

Merlin could feel his heart pick up the pace as he fought the instinct to wiggle in Arthur’s arms and close the gap between their bodies, feel all of Arthur’s warmth and weight pressed up against his side, their heads leaning together. Merlin debated if perhaps he could do it for real, maybe even go further and turn on his left side too, so that Arthur would line up against his back instead and cover all of him; he debated whether that would be allowed, and if not, maybe he could pretend to be still asleep and blame it all on a state of unconsciousness.

He almost took courage, almost moved, when his phone came awake with a loud beeping noise. Arthur was startled awake, his eyes snapping open, quickly scanning the room to take in his surroundings; the second he realised his position, he shifted back to his side of the bed, leaving Merlin with pins and needles in his right leg and a longing in his heart.

“What’s this noise?” Arthur asked, his voice thick with slumber, as Merlin realised the sound was still going. He reached on the nightstand to stop it.

“Uh, my alarm… I have to get up,” Merlin replied, leaning up on his elbows. He would have given anything to just go back in Arthur’s arms and sleep a bit longer. Instead, he rubbed his eyes with one hand and mentally prepared for the cold of the room that was about to hit his warm body.

Arthur turned on his stomach, his hands under the pillow, ready to sleep some more once Merlin left. “Uhm, I’m sorry, for earlier,” he mumbled. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… you know, to invade your space.”

“It’s okay,” Merlin said softly, wishing Arthur knew exactly how far from uncomfortable it was.

“I… I had a dream, and… I thought you were Gwen,” Arthur admitted, his voice turning low and sad and Merlin’s heart clenched both at his friend’s grief and at his own disillusion; of course Arthur wasn’t going to snuggle with Merlin because he wanted to. Of course that embrace was meant for someone else, and Merlin just happened to be there instead of her, occupying the space where his Queen was supposed to be.

“It’s okay, really,” he repeated.

“It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t mind,” Merlin said, sincerely, seeking Arthur’s eyes in the dark. The scarce light from the window hit them and they sparkled like a starry sky. Merlin hoped it wasn’t tears that made them shine like that. “I have to get ready now, go back to sleep if you can, it’s only half six.”

He got ready, and jumped on the Central line like every morning, squeezing in between all the other commuters, headphones safely in place. He stopped being Merlin, the great sorcerer from the Arthurian legends, and went back to being Emrys, just Emrys, nurse from Bristol, twenty-seven years old, orphan, only child, book lover, foodie, outdoors enthusiast. He got to the hospital, changed into his scrubs, when he finally spotted her near the bathrooms before their shift started.

When she spotted him too, her smile grew wider. “Emrys!” she greeted, the final letter curling up in her usual lisp. “Finally you’re back! How was your-?”

He didn’t give her time to finish the sentence that he was throwing himself at her, wrapping his long arms around her waist, hunching over to compensate for the height difference. She gasped in surprise, hugging him back.

“Is everything okay?” she asked with more than a hint of concern.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her blond waves. And he had, so much more than he could tell her.

“Aw, I missed you too!”

*

After coming home from his shift and finding Arthur still alive and proud to have successfully operated the microwave by himself for the first time – he hadn’t done the dishes but one thing at a time – Merlin opted for ordering pizza.

“It’s the second time we’re having Italian food, are Italians the only people who cook these days?” Arthur asked, lifting a cheesy slice of margherita pizza off the carton and biting off the tip. 

It was supposed to be a serious question, but Merlin almost laughed, covering his mouth with his fist to avoid spitting. “Uh, some act like they are. They’re really proud of their food.”

“It is really good.”

“I knew you’d like it. Pizza is simple but delicious.”

How odd it was to have Arthur here, in his London flat, sitting at the tiny table in the living room, having dinner together, chatting about each other’s day; or, more realistically, Arthur rambling on about season two of The Crown which he’d binge watched almost in its entirety, and Merlin listening and waiting for his turn to speak.

“Glad you found something you enjoy,” Merlin said eventually.

“What else can I do, you’re out the whole day.”

Merlin felt a pang of guilt for having to leave Arthur alone like this for hours on end, for having to work when all he wanted was to spend time with him, enjoy his company, do things together. How he wished he could have done just that forever.

“I have to work,” he said simply, his eyes down at the oily pizza marks on the white carton.

“I know,” Arthur said softly. “I would have appreciated it if you’d worked this hard as my servant.”

That got Merlin to snicker and Arthur smiled proudly to himself, cocking his head to one side.

“I’m off the whole weekend this week,” Merlin offered. “We can go out, explore London a bit, do things.”

“What type of things?”

“For example I’m going to a party on Friday evening, you can come too if you want.”

He debated long and hard whether to invite Arthur to the Halloween party as it would mean introducing him to Emrys’s social circle, but right now it seemed like the only option.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion. “A party? Like a celebratory feast?”

“Sort of, yes.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“It’s a Halloween party, it’s an American holiday.”

As they cleared the table, Merlin briefly explained what Halloween was about, what the party would look like, and suggested a couple of films to watch to have a better understanding of what it would look like.

“So I have to dress up?” Arthur asked, leaning against the door of the narrow kitchen, watching as Merlin prepared to do the dishes.

“You can. Most people will… but you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Merlin said, filling up the washing-up bowl with soapy warm water. “You don’t have to come to the party at all, unless you want to,” he added quickly, making sure Arthur didn’t feel pressured to join.

“Of course I’m coming, you know I love a celebration!” Arthur replied, almost offended. “What do people dress up as, usually?”

“You find all sort of costumes… animals, fictional characters, scary creatures of sorts… or you know, some people – sorry can you dry this one – some people just use it as an occasion to put on some fancy clothes they really like but wouldn’t normally wear.“

Arthur grabbed a tea towel and dried up the breakfast mug Merlin was holding up. “Can I come as myself?”

“Of course, not everyone is going to come in costume anyway.”

“No, I meant… as myself. My real self.”

Merlin shot him a confused look.

“Maybe I could wear some of my real clothes, or something similar,” Arthur explained. “I’d like the chainmail too… and the crown.” The truth was, as much as he liked these modern clothes Merlin got for him, as soft and stretchy as they might have been, they weren’t his clothes. He still felt like they were borrowed, like everything else he was going through – a parenthesis, before he could go back to his real life.

Merlin smiled at him as he placed the clean glasses on the drying rack. “I’m sure I can find something of sorts.” That would translate, later on, to a wild search online for a ‘medieval king costume adult’ with fast delivery. Amazon probably had something of that kind.

“If I’m the king, you can come as my servant,” Arthur suggested.

“Mmh, no I can’t.”

“Okay, fine, this is about pretending to be someone else… you can come as a knight.”

“No, I meant, I already have a costume... I promised someone we’d do a joint thing.”

Arthur furrowed his brows, his stomach feeling suddenly tight in a most unfamiliar way. “Someone? Who?”

“Uh, a friend,” Merlin said. He emptied the washing up bowl down the sink, the artificial scent of lemon spreading in the whole kitchen. “Her name is Aga.”

“Is that her full name?” Arthur asked, an unexpected curiosity rising in his mind. He knew Merlin had friends in the centuries, he’d seen the boxes in the attic in Glastonbury, stacked by the dozens, but for some reason it never occurred to him that Merlin may have somebody right now, currently alive.

“It’s short for Agnieszka,” Merlin added. “She’s from Poland.”

“Agnieszka,” Arthur repeated, letting the foreign name roll on his tongue, savouring it like a new dish. “Is she your… girlfriend?”

Merlin found it vaguely odd that was Arthur’s first question on the subject. “No… but she’s my dearest friend.”

Every life he lived left a scar in his heart, in every life he survived everyone he loved, every life he ended in grief and sorrow with the awareness that his own end was nowhere in sight. Every new life, he decided this time was going to be different, this time he would not _attach_ to anyone because they would die in the end, at some point, and he was cursed to be left alone and live on without them, and life after life this was becoming more and more unbearable. Every new life he made the resolution to live alone. And then, in every life, he always ended up meeting someone whose laughter made him laugh too, someone who thought like him and completed his sentences, someone whose soul seemed to match his own like nobody else’s. Every life, he did it all again. In this life, Aga had been the one to do the spell on him, to melt the ice around his heart.

When the two men sat next to each other on the sofa to watch some telly before bed, Arthur blurted out a string of questions he’d been wanting to ask – what did she do, how did they meet, how old was she, what was she like; and Merlin answered, with the fondest smile Arthur had ever seen, and Arthur felt he was somehow bound too to this girl who he hadn’t even met but who was making Merlin happy, somehow, to be still alive.

*

Merlin kept reading the diaries regularly, every evening, at least a couple of entries before his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, forcing him to switch off the light. Arthur didn’t even make a move to go sleep on the sofa; in the darkness of the bedroom, he buried himself under the heavy duvet until only his head remained exposed, then he turned on one side facing outwards and fell asleep near his friend.

Every morning, Merlin woke up a minute before the alarm and enjoyed finding a sound asleep Arthur spread all over him, always in the exact same position, Arthur on his left side, his arm and leg draped over Merlin’s, their bodies close but not quite touching. Every morning, as he fought his instinct to snuggle closer, Merlin wondered if that’s how Arthur and Gwen used to fall asleep, and reminded himself this embrace was not meant for him. Every morning, as the beeping of the alarm shot straight into his ears, the awareness of Merlin’s proximity hit Arthur, and he jumped back to put space between them. He then mumbled an apology, his cheeks warm from tiredness and a bit of embarrassment, before turning on his other side and falling asleep again to the sound of Merlin getting ready for work.

“I have to be on call tomorrow night, so I’ll sleep at the hospital,” Merlin said one evening, watching as Arthur tentatively chopped an onion. He had to learn sooner or later.

“After your shift?” Arthur asked, his attention carefully fixed on the shiny knife and the wooden board beneath. He blinked twice as he felt his eyes go dry and prickly.

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll be gone a whole day?!”

“I have to.”

“It’s okay, I’ll manage.” The knife hit the board as the first half of the onion was successfully diced, and Arthur looked up at Merlin with a sniffle.

“Don’t cry, Arthur, it’s only one day,” Merlin giggled at his friend’s damp, red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m not crying, Merlin, it’s the _onion_ ,” Arthur retorted, pointing with the knife down at the chopping board.

“There’s no shame in crying.”

“I am _not_ crying!” He sniffled again and attempted to wipe his eyes on his wrist, which made it even worse.

“I’ll leave you alone with your emotions,” Merlin said as he patted Arthur’s shoulder before leaving the kitchen.

After dinner, Merlin was going through the kitchen appliances _again_ just to make sure Arthur would be safe and well-fed, especially since he still didn’t have a phone to order delivery or call 999 with.

“What about the diaries?” Arthur asked just as Merlin was stressing the fact that dishes wouldn’t do themselves and that they needed to be washed if one wanted to find them clean.

“What about them?”

“I was thinking, maybe you can do the spell on me… so I can read them without you.”

“Oh.” While half of him was glad Arthur was open to have a spell done on himself again, the other half realised this might signal the end of their bedtime readings, a little habit that Merlin had grown to look forward to since it began. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.”

Arthur asked to have the spell done on all the remaining books in one go. “I’m going to be alone a whole day, this will give me something to do.”

He placed the open chest in the middle of the living room and kneeled in front of it, his eyes scanning the volumes lying untouched for centuries.

Merlin rested one hand against the thick wood and the other one delicately on top of Arthur’s head, both arms shaking slightly as his heart beat faster in his chest and his stomach twitched in fear. Arthur’s eyes were scrunched shut, little wrinkles framing them at the edge. Merlin knew he could not screw this up again. His palm growing increasingly sweatier, he closed his eyes and focused on the magic inside him, feeling it flow down his limbs, pulsating in time with his blood, remembering a time in which doing this was second nature. He pronounced the spell in a whisper, barely audible, and yet the enchanted shiver ran down his spine and through his arms, tickling his fingers, until it left his body.

Merlin opened his eyes, blinking, suddenly aware of the hard wood beneath his hand, and Arthur’s soft hair beneath the other.

“Arthur? All good?” he asked tentatively, dropping his hands to his own thighs and hoping this went better than last time. Arthur’s eyes blinked open and he looked around the room.

“Yes, I think so.” When he picked up a book and browsed through it quickly, his smile grew wider, and Merlin sighed in relief.

When they got to bed, later, sitting next to one another with pillows stacked between their backs and the headboard, Merlin handed Arthur the diary they were currently reading, receiving a confused look from the former king.

“You can understand it now,” Merlin said simply, trying to hide his own sadness at the idea that this was something they would no longer share. Merlin believed he would be okay with it eventually – those diaries were written for Arthur after all, not for himself.

Arthur glanced at the diary, then up at Merlin’s face, then back at the diary. “You no longer want to read to me?” he asked with an insecurity Merlin had rarely heard in his voice before.

“I do,” Merlin replied softly.

“Okay then, keep reading,” Arthur said with a nod.

Merlin smiled, resting the book on his legs as he fixed the pillows behind his back. Then, he glanced at Arthur at his right. “You like this, don’t you? That I read to you?”

The room was only lit by the bedside lamp but Merlin could see it, clear as day, the flush that spread over Arthur’s neck and cheeks, the way he pressed his lips together and purposefully avoided meeting his friend’s inquisitive eyes. It was the only answer Merlin needed.

“Just read, Merlin,” Arthur instructed dryly. Merlin did.

*

Despite the quiet night that allowed him to get some hours of sleep, when Merlin came home after spending twenty-four hours at the hospital he was absolutely knackered. The key turned in the lock with a click as Merlin expected to find Arthur still in bed, it was only half eight in the morning after all. Plus, Merlin thought, that royal prat surely enjoyed having the bed all for himself once again.

The house was indeed silent, but the bedroom door was open and filled with light, sign that the curtains were pulled open.

“Arthur?” he called. He didn’t need an answer; as he walked into the living room, he found Arthur sitting on the sofa, cocooned inside a blanket, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “I didn’t think you were up already.”

“Oh, you’re back,” Arthur said softly, blowing on his tea before taking a small sip.

“Yes, I, uh, I got your king costume,” Merlin said with a smile, mentally thanking whoever came up with the Amazon Locker concept. “Hopefully it fits.”

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly and took another sip of his tea.

Merlin was about to take off his shoes when his glance was pulled like a magnet to the wooden chest in which the Camelot diaries were stored, now lying open next on the floor next to Arthur, almost entirely empty, the volumes being scattered in messy piles at the sofa’s feet.

“Is everything okay?” Merlin asked tentatively. Studying his friend’s face more closely, he noticed the tiny red veins in his eyes and dark circles under them. His stubble was also more noticeable than usual, like a shade over his chin and cheeks.

“I’ve been reading,” was Arthur’s answer. One of the diaries lay open, face down, on the sofa next to him.

“All those?” Merlin gestured at the books on the floor.

“I couldn’t stop.”

“Have you been reading all night?”

Arthur nodded, and Merlin took off his backpack before sitting on the sofa next to his friend. Arthur was not reading now, and whatever he read last was clearly troubling him. Merlin picked up the open book and glanced through it – he hadn’t made the spell on himself for that book, so he couldn’t understand all of it, but a few words here and there combined with the writing style were enough for him to take a guess.

“This is… Gwen’s wedding day,” Merlin said, putting down the book again to focus on his friend instead.

“It is,” Arthur confirmed, followed by a heavy sigh. “She says what you told me… that she doesn’t love him, but she has to marry him to grant a future for the kingdom… but that he is a good man and he treats her with respect… and that her heart still belongs to me.” His voice became smaller and smaller as he spoke, while he pushed his emotion back inside his heart. He had already cried, earlier, alone, he wasn’t planning on repeating the performance in front of Merlin.

“I told you, she loved you all her life.”

_She wasn’t the only one._

“Sometimes I think it would be easier if she hadn’t,” Arthur said, looking down at his ringless hands, warm against the mug, while Merlin, at that point, found himself at loss of words.

“How was… how was your day?” Arthur asked next.

“It was okay… it was a quiet night. I’m going to take a nap now,” Merlin replied, respecting Arthur’s decision to change topic. “You should get some sleep too, it’s going to be a long day.”

“The party?”

“The party.”

Merlin walked to the bedroom, pulling the curtains closed as a first thing, and took off his jumper and jeans, remaining only in underwear, socks, and a white t-shirt. The bed, as every day, was still unmade from the previous night, the sheets crumpled in circles with the signs of their bodies, so he pulled the duvet up quickly before lying on top of it; for some reason he couldn’t really explain, it always felt wrong to get _in_ the bed only to take a nap. He draped a throw blanket over himself, reeling in the feeling of warm fleece on his bare legs, before turning on his stomach, both his arms fit snugly under the pillow, his head facing the middle of the bed.

Arthur arrived some minutes later, once he was done with his tea, the blanket he was cocooned in now hanging from his shoulders like a cape. With the eye that wasn’t buried in the pillow, Merlin noticed Arthur was wearing his pyjamas, and he wondered whether he’d been wearing that since the night before.

The mattress dipped under Arthur’s weight as he lay down on his side, facing inwards, his knees bent up so that the blanket could cover all his body.

Their eyes met, almost unexpectedly. Merlin blinked as he realised it was the first time they were in bed facing each other, as they usually faced different directions and the room in the night was too dark to notice anyway. As many of the things that happened since Arthur came back, this too felt odd in the most beautiful way.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like that,” Arthur whispered.

“I know,” Merlin said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“We were supposed to grow old together, reign together… make an heir, or lots of them… I was supposed to be with her through it all.”

“I know,” Merlin repeated, softly, hearing the pain in Arthur’s voice, watching his eyes grow darker and his lips tremble slightly.

“But she was happy… wasn’t she? Everything she wrote, before this… she seemed happy.”

“She was. She loved her people and her people loved her.”

Arthur cracked a smile. “Let’s get some sleep now, I want to be well rested tonight.” Then his eyes closed, and soon Merlin mirrored him.

*

“You just _had_ to screw this up, didn’t you Merlin?!” Arthur said annoyedly, his arms sticking out straight in front of his shoulders holding up the alleged king costume.

Five seconds later, Merlin’s curly head popped in through the bedroom door, the toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “Wha’s tha’?”

“Look at this! This isn’t real chainmail, this is… _cotton_!” Arthur complained.

“’olyesta.”

“ _What_?”

Merlin held up his hand signalling to wait and walked back to the bathroom. He reappeared a minute later.

“I said, it’s probably polyester, not cotton,” he said, strolling into the bedroom.

“I don’t care what you call this type of cloth, it’s cloth! It’s fake!” Arthur gestured at the costume, now thrown on the bed, then pointed at the crown. “The crown too is fake!”

“It’s a Halloween costume, it’s supposed to be fake, remember?”

“I asked for the real thing!”

“This was the closest I could find!” Merlin glanced at the costume up and down, it was actually very similar to what Arthur used to wear, at least the pieces of it he could remember – a grey long-sleeved hooded tunic vaguely resembling a chainmail, a red cape, black gloves, and black trousers. It even came with fake brown boots – to be worn above other shoes - and a plastic golden crown. Merlin had paid quite a bit for it.

Arthur groaned in frustration. “Fine. But I’ll have you know, I don’t like it.” He pointed a finger at Merlin, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Next time I shall ask my local blacksmith to forge you a real chainmail, _my lord_. Just get dressed now, or we’ll be late.”

“When are you getting dressed?” Arthur asked, his hands on his hips.

“I am dressed.”

“Those are normal clothes, I thought you also had a costume.”

Merlin looked down at himself, his striped polo shirt and his tight dark blue jeans. “This is my costume.”

“Who are you, the village idiot?”

“Prat.” He and Aga were going as Mike and Eleven from Stranger Things. Or, to better put it, Aga was going as Eleven, and Merlin had gathered a striped polo, a beige jacket, and was going to become Mike next to her. “But no, I’m going as a fictional character... you wouldn’t know him.”

“A character from the internet?”

“Uh, yeah, sort of.”

That answer seemed to be enough for Arthur. “Come on, help me out here,” he said, sliding out of his t-shirt and trousers at record speed. Merlin was going to say that no help was needed to put on that costume, but the truth was, he had missed this – taking care of Arthur like this, have the opportunity to be close to him this way.

He walked closer and grabbed the trousers first, kneeling down and instructing Arthur to lift a leg and then the other, as the former king balanced himself on his friend’s shoulders. Merlin stood up as he slid the trousers up Arthur’s muscular legs, then the tunic was next. “Arms,” Merlin instructed, and Arthur followed, sticking out his arms, his palms facing downwards.

“I also don’t have a sword,” Arthur pointed out as his hands found their way through the sleeves. “Maybe I’ll just get one of your kitchen knives, a dagger is better than no weapon.”

Merlin almost choked on his own breath. “Uh, no, that’s a very bad idea.”

“What, why?”

“You can’t walk around in London with a knife. That’s… very much frowned upon.”

“Oh, I see.” That didn’t make any sense to Arthur, but then again not many things did in this world.

The costume kit didn’t have a belt, so Merlin grabbed one of his own from a drawer and fixed it around Arthur’s waist.

“Did you tell your friend Aga I am coming too, tonight?” Arthur asked.

“Sure, I’ve told her, she’s excited to meet you,” Merlin said, as he took the red cape from the bed and waved it open.

“How did she react when you told her I’ve come back?”

“Uhm, she doesn’t know that you are _the_ King Arthur… I’ve just said I’m bringing my new flatmate.” He worked to tie the strings of the cape under Arthur’s chin.

“So she doesn’t know about you either?”

“Of course not. I go by Emrys now, that’s what all my friends know me as.”

Arthur scoffed. “Well, it’s good to see some things never change.”

Merlin stopped his fingers working on the knot and looked up at his friend’s face, his expression twisted with an unnamed emotion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You still lie to your friends about who you really are.”

Merlin froze, his mouth hanging slightly open at the reference he’d just heard. “It’s different,” he said, unable to believe Arthur was comparing the secret of magic in Camelot to the twenty-first century.

“Is it?” Arthur countered, crooking an eyebrow.

“Yes, it is… magic is not illegal now, it simply doesn’t _exist_ ,” Merlin explained. “I can’t go around telling people I am Merlin, the sorcerer from the Arthurian legends, they would think I’m nuts! I _have_ to keep it secret.”

Arthur nodded, and yet his eyes were telling a different story. “I am new to this world but I get that much, I understand we can’t reveal our true identity to the people.”

“Exactly, good that-“

“But you did say this Aga is your dearest friend.”

Silence fell between them, Merlin’s hands still fixed on the cape strings as he found himself speechless once again. Arthur’s eyes were on his own, blue and dark and challenging an answer out of him, one that Merlin did not have.

“It’s different,” Merlin repeated eventually, finishing the knot and fixing the cape across Arthur’s shoulders. If Arthur decided to accept the answer or simply to drop the topic, Merlin didn’t know. He proceeded to take the crown from the bed and placed it on top of Arthur’s head.

Suddenly he was staring at the King again, and the grin on his face could not be stopped. Merlin grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and spun him around so that they both faced the mirror. It was Arthur’s turn now to have his jaw hanging open, as for the first time in this new world, inside this poorly-made copy of his royal outfits, he saw his true self in the mirror.

“It’s not that bad after all,” he admitted, adjusting his hair under the crown.

When they left the flat, some time later, they walked to the car. Arthur stopped right next to it while Merlin seemed to keep walking.

“Uhm, Merlin? The car is here,” the king said.

The warlock froze on the spot. “It’s Emrys, when we’re in public. It’s important.”

“Okay, _Emrys_ , your car is parked here.”

“Oh no, I’m not driving, I want to have a drink tonight. We’re taking the tube.”

“The _tube_?” Arthur asked with an inch-deep frown across his forehead. “What is that?”

Arthur’s initiation to the tube went exactly as expected. Merlin had to drag him through the tunnels to avoid him stopping to look at each and every ad, “No, no, you have to keep walking!”, and then had to pull him securely in front of himself down the escalator to prevent some hurried stranger pushing him to the side with a passive-aggressive ’excuse me’.

“You have to stand on the right, it says that everywhere,” Merlin pointed out.

“This is deeper than Camelot’s prisons,” Arthur said at some point on the escalator, and Merlin thanked the heavens everyone around them seemed to be listening to something else in their earphones.

The train itself was loud and fast and crowded, as Arthur exclaimed aloud a few times, earning himself the odd glance from unknown passengers. At least, Merlin knew a lot of Halloween parties were on that weekend, so they weren’t the only ones with a fancy costume on.

Once they climbed out of Camden Town’s station, Merlin walked away from the crowd and pulled Arthur on one side.

“Okay, the venue is down there and Aga is meeting us there in five,” Merlin said. “Do you remember the rules?”

At some point before they left the house, Merlin had panicked at the idea that he was about to introduce Arthur to his social circle, and started wondering what would happen if his friends didn’t like Arthur, or Arthur didn’t like his friends, or if the whole situation ended up being awkward and weird. He therefore prepared a quick little story for Arthur to learn. The other rules had been set during the week, with Merlin leaving Arthur a list of things to watch and listen to, to prepare him for what a Halloween party would look like.

“Yes, I do remember your rules, _Emrys_ ,” Arthur replied. He kept pronouncing ‘Emrys’ with the same tone one would pronounce ‘you idiot’.

“Okay, what’s rule number one?”

Arthur sighed. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes, we do,” Merlin said. He was really getting quite anxious now. “Rule number one?”

“Okay, fine,” Arthur said. “I can’t reveal either of our true identities, no mention of magic either. You’re Emrys and I’m Arthur, our parents were friends. I’m from Bristol, I’ve just turned thirty, and I’ve recently returned to the UK from abroad. I’m staying with you in London until I find a job.” He parroted it all flatly using the same words Merlin had used earlier.

“Abroad where?”

“I’ve travelled around a lot, but most recently I’ve done some seasonal work in the Caucasus region and taught English to children in Australia.”

“The other way round.”

“Does it matter?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Fine, I’ve done seasonal work in Australia and taught English to children in the Caucasus region.”

“Better, okay, rule number two?”

“I can only eat and drink what you get for me. I must not accept anything from strangers.”

“Good, and rule number three?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You know this is a stupid one, I’m a married man… and even if I wasn’t, I would never disrespect a woman. I am a knight.”

“Just repeat the rule anyway.”

“There might be girls in some state of undress but that does not give me the right to stare at them, or touch them, or comment on their appearance. Not even when they are drunk,” Arthur said quickly like a pre-registered record. “Happy now?”

Merlin smiled. “Good, let’s go.”

Arthur would never admit it out loud, but he was nervous too at the idea of meeting people from this century. They were his people, or their descendants, but he knew nothing about them in spite of all the tv he’d watched in the past week. As himself, he was never afraid of meeting anyone new; he rather enjoyed it, actually, and everyone always seemed charmed by him and his royal status. Well, except Merlin.

But right here, right now, he was a nobody, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

He understood they reached the location when Merlin waved at someone and she waved back, and then they met each other in a hug.

Arthur believed that was Aga. He studied her while she interacted with Merlin; she was considerably shorter than Merlin, her head would only reach his chest, and the oversized blue jacket she had on made her look even smaller. Light blond waves were cascading down to her shoulders, framing her round face, while the pink dress she wore under the jacket reached her knees, the lower part of her legs covered by white knee-high socks and canvas shoes with a blue star on the side. Now that he noticed, Merlin was wearing the same shoes.

“…and this is Arthur, my flatmate,” he heard Merlin say.

Her eyes settled on Arthur as she offered her hand. “Agnieszka Matyjaśkiewitcz,” she introduced herself, her name sounding way more foreign than when Merlin said it. “Or Aga, for my friends.”

Arthur knew what he had to say, he knew he had to shake her hand. Still, he froze for a split of second, noticing the green shade of her eyes hidden beneath what looked like fake eyelashes, her straight, pointy nose, and her thin lips stretched in a wide smile. So this was it, this young woman was Merlin’s dearest friend. Something snapped in Arthur’s head as he decided he had to make a good impression on her.

He slid his hand under hers to lift it up slightly as he bent over, startling a squeal out of her as he brushed her knuckles with his lips.

“King Arthur of Camelot,” he said, looking up at her. “At your service, My Lady.”

Merlin’s heart was beating so fast that it threatened to come out of his chest, because this was definitely not what they had rehearsed, but his anxiety dissipated quickly when Aga laughed and bowed her head slightly in reverence.

Arthur was wearing a king costume, of course she would think he was joking.

They went inside and Arthur introduced himself as King Arthur to everyone he met; Merlin was baffled to see how Arthur was naturally charming, funny, acting as if he really belonged to this generation, while at the same time keeping up his character.

The evening seemed to be going great, between drinks and nibbles and dances, so much that soon Merlin, who had planned to remain on the sober side to check on Arthur, let himself enjoy the atmosphere too.

Aga grabbed Merlin’s wrist at some point, while everyone else was dancing the night away on the dancefloor, and encouraged him to follow her outside. Merlin suspected she had questions and wanted a quiet place to speak.

The air was cold outside, pricking their faces flushed from alcohol, and they both closed up their jackets as they stepped away from the smokers area.

“You’ve been staring at him the whole night!” Aga said with a cheeky grin once they were sufficiently alone. “Are you two together?”

“What? No! He’s just new in town, I was keeping an eye on him,” Merlin replied, taking a sip of whatever iced cocktail he’d ordered last.

She didn’t seem to buy his excuse. “Were you with him last week?”

“Uh, yes, I was, but -“

“You’re fuck buddies then?”

“No! No, I swear, we’re just friends! Old friends. Without benefits.”

Aga shoved her hands down the pockets on her jacket and eyed him unconvinced from beneath her lashes.

“Don’t you think I would have told you, if I was dating someone?” Merlin added, and that seemed to convince her a bit more.

“But you like him, right?” she probed.

“No…”

“ _Emrys_!”

Merlin sighed. This was a question he didn’t really know how to answer, and the alcohol clouding his mind was not making this any easier. Did he love Arthur? Yes, very much. But did he _like_ him, in a physical and romantic way? He didn’t know… he did want to touch Arthur, a lot, all the time, he wanted to hug him and cuddle him, he loved sleeping in the same bed as him, and just be close to him and feel his body warmth, and that time they wrestled in the living room he did have some sort of sexual thoughts about him and…

Shit.

“Okay, maybe. A bit,” he said out lout, his cheeks feeling even warmer in the night. “But he doesn’t feel that way, about me.”

And that was the whole point, Merlin told himself. Whatever feelings he might have, they were not reciprocated.

“How do you know?”

“He was married… to a woman…”

He was interrupted by Aga’s dry laugh. “Because bisexuality doesn’t exist?”

They both identified as bi.

“No, uh, that’s not the point,” Merlin said, taking another sip of his cocktail. The cold glass was freezing his hand. “His wife passed away, recently… he’s not… he’s still… He just needs a friend to help him get back on his feet.”

Aga looked down, crossing her feet, seemingly taken aback by the revelation. “Oh, I didn’t know he was a… widow?”

“Widower.”

“Widower,” she corrected. “That’s sad.”

“Yeah, very,” Merlin agreed. “Let’s go back inside, please? I’m freezing.”

Aga nodded and grabbed him by the arm. “He is very cute, though,” she whispered, squeezing his bicep. “Maybe one day.”

“Yes, maybe.”

The rest of the night flowed as freely as the alcohol in their veins.

*

Their journey home in the night tube was filled with laughter and Arthur commenting on the other costumes and repeating over and over again what a great time he’d had.

Merlin wasn’t exactly shit-faced, he’d learned to pace himself when it came to drinking, so that he managed to remain in the sweetest spot the whole evening, drunk and happy and free, but never so much that he had to puke in a corner. Judging by his giggles and his flushed cheeks, Arthur was in a similar state.

As the tube came to a halt at their stop, Merlin lost his balance and leaned on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You’re _pissed_ ,” Arthur whispered to his ear.

"I am not!"

"You are!"

Merlin shushed Arthur as they finally stumbled into their flat. “The neighbours!” he whispered, his forefinger against his nose.

Arthur mirrored his pose. “Right, right.” Then, he giggled again, walking to the bedroom and stretching his arms above his head, the cape flowing behind him.

“Mmmh, I had such a great night, Merlin, really,” he slurred a bit, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m sooooo sleepy now.” He fell on top of the bed, bouncing slightly, the crown falling off his head.

“It just hits you out of the blue, doesn’t it,” Merlin said, leaning against the bedroom door, suddenly feeling drowsy himself. He always found the journey home in the night tube to be extremely soporific. 

“Come and undress me,” Arthur said, his eyes already closed.

“Do I have to?” Merlin protested, although a part of him perked up at the idea.

Arthur sat up, the room kind of spinning around him, and put the crown back on his head. “It’s an order!”

Merlin grinned, his tongue sneaking out to lick his lips. There was no way he could have refused, really. He took two unsteady steps towards the king, helping him up on his feet, as Arthur offered his hands.

“Just this once, don’t get used to it,” Merlin said as he took off the gloves as a first thing, revealing Arthur’s large strong _beautiful_ hands flexing into fists and back. Who was he kidding, he would have spent his entire existence just undressing Arthur, he thought as a familiar kind of heat started pooling in his abdomen, the alcohol in his system fuelling his hormones like oxygen on fire.

The crown came off next and joined the gloves on top of the chest of drawers.

“Shoes,” Merlin instructed next as Arthur attempted to lift his feet up, falling on the bed instead, cackling and almost kicking Merlin in the process.

Merlin laughed too as he removed the fake boots and the trainers underneath. He sat on the bed next to Arthur while attempting to undo the cape knot, something that proved harder than expected to complete.

“You’re so useless Merlin,” Arthur mocked after a minute of Merlin’s fingers working unsuccessfully.

“You do it then,” Merlin said raising his hands.

Arthur just pulled the cape up above his head, scrunching his face so that it would fit in the hole. A tearing noise resounded in the room, but then his head was free and he threw the cape on the floor.

“See?” he said smugly.

“I could have done _that_.”

“No you couldn’t!” Arthur punched his friend’s shoulder playfully, edging closer to him.

“You undress yourself then,” Merlin said, licking his lips again, that bit of horseplay having further ignited the heat in him.

“No, you do it,” Arthur pouted, grabbing Merlin’s hand and bringing it to his belt, lying down on his elbows for an easier access.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much,” Merlin said, working to undo the belt, while his eyes remained glued to the king’s ones like magnets. He could swear there was something in there that he’d seen in lovers before. Could this be the night…?

Arthur poked Merlin on the shoulder with his forefinger, then again on the ribs, chuckling softly. “And?” he said, the most disgustingly arrogant smirk across his lips. “Trousers,” he added, wiggling his hips on the mattress as Merlin placed the belt on the floor with a sigh, his blood rushing downwards and his lips going dry again at the sight of that seemingly innocent movement.

As Merlin kneeled down in front of the king, his hands reaching up under the tunic to find the waistband, he thought of how much he wanted to kiss that smirk away, suckle on those lips, bite down that neck, and then further down where his hands were right now. The skin under his pads was soft and warm and he lingered on the feeling just a second longer than necessary.

“Merlin!” Arthur warned playfully. “ _Trousers_.”

At that reminder, Merlin hunched his fingers safely under the waistband. He could feel the underwear too, right there, and he wondered what would happen if he pulled down everything together, baring all of Arthur at the same time, inhaling his scent, then maybe his hands could travel lower, joined by his mouth…

Somewhere in his head, a smidgen of rationality stopped him. No. Nononononono. Arthur hadn’t given consent, no consent received no head given, his mind chanted.

Merlin gathered all his willpower and just pulled down the trousers down the king’s legs watching the muscles contract and release under the cloth’s soft stroke, his own trousers now very much on the tight side.

“Stand up,” Merlin said, holding out a hand. Arthur took it, balancing himself on his feet, and raised his arms in the air. They were only a few inches apart; Merlin could have just leaned forward and so easily pressed his lips against that plump mouth in front of him. Instead, he grabbed the hem of the tunic and pulled it all the way up, uncovering Arthur’s abdomen and chest, inch by inch of golden skin, something he’d seen thousands of time before but never explicitly like this, never so _hungry_ for it, never wishing he could touch it and kiss it until Arthur gasped in pleasure.

When the tunic came off with a pull, Arthur lost balance for a second and held onto Merlin’s shoulders for help. The static made his hair stick out in every direction and his smirk still hadn’t faded as he stood naked, except for his underwear, naked and so very close to Merlin, his hands resting on the warlock’s shoulders.

“See? That wasn’t so difficult,” Arthur said, and Merlin felt he was going to burst if he didn’t kiss him right now. He stared at those lips, soft and arrogant, wondering for a split of second about the risk, the potential failure, but God he just wanted to kiss him, nothing else, just kiss him, that would have been enough.

Half a second later, something short-circuited in Merlin’s inebriated brain, and he pressed a kiss on the tip of Arthur’s nose instead.

A full second of thick silence followed, heavy with expectations and doubts and questions, the only sound in the room coming from Merlin’s heavy breathing.

Then Arthur laughed, loudly, his head thrown back, as he pushed Merlin to the side. “You’re so weird, Merlin,” he said affectionately, walking to the bathroom.

It was Merlin’s turn now to fall face down on the bed, his erection almost painful in his jeans, as he wondered what exactly just happened but was too tired and drunk to fully grasp the situation. He just thought he wanted to wank, he had to have a quick one once the bathroom was free, he was just too _horny_ to go to sleep like this.

He ended up falling asleep on the spot, and Arthur woke him up with a tap on the shoulder some minutes later to tell him the bathroom was free. By then, Merlin’s erection had flagged completely, and his mood with it. He used the bathroom too, quickly, just to pee, and then joined Arthur in bed.

The king was already asleep, snoring softly, and Merlin followed him shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support! You're so lovely xx


	6. I'm ready to learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, happy 1st of December! :D  
> This and the next chapter were supposed to be one unit, but the word count was almost 17k so I decided to split it in half(ish), I'll post the next part in a few days. I hope it won't be too obvious that they were intended as one...  
> Enjoy :)

The throbbing headache was the first sensation that Merlin registered as he blinked his eyes open, gradually, his pupils adjusting to the light. Then came the thirst, the chapped lips, the dry throat, all signs that his brain was screaming for water.

And then, after that, the heat from Arthur’s body lying to his right, just like every morning, the weight of his arm resting on Merlin’s stomach. Merlin was used to it, by now, and enjoyed it while it lasted, usually just for a bunch of seconds before his alarm went off.

This morning, however, there was no alarm, no shift to go to, nothing planned. The rain tapped rhythmically on the window, the duvet felt warm and heavy on his body, and Merlin thought he wanted to spend all day like this, cosy in bed in Arthur’s arms. Not even the pressing thirst could make him wiggle out of the embrace – Arthur would wake up sooner or later, and he would shift away, like he did every day, and Merlin was not going to spend one minute less in his arms than what he was given.

Turning his head, he found himself only mere inches away from Arthur’s face, sharing his same pillow, still clearly in the middle of sleep, his closed eyes, his regular breaths, and a tiny rivulet of dried saliva that linked his open mouth to the pillow, a sight that made Merlin giggle silently.

Arthur stirred slightly for a second, making Merlin freeze and fear the premature end of the moment. However, Arthur’s eyes remained closed, and Merlin sighed in relief at the idea that he was given some more time to be close to Arthur like this.

He observed his king, travelling on every inch of Arthur’s face, noting how relaxed his features were, how peaceful he looked, without any thought or pain or grief or anything. Their heads were so close that Merlin believed he only needed to move forward an inch and they would have bumped noses together.

At that thought, Merlin winced, as suddenly the memories of the previous night came crashing onto him. He remembered the party, he remembered having a great time, he remembered the conversation with Aga about Arthur, and then he remembered coming home, undressing him, flirting with him a bit maybe, being so horny he could have made a hole in the wall, and then kissing the tip of Arthur’s nose of all places. He could feel second-hand embarrassment creeping up his bones as he wondered what exactly he was planning to achieve with those misplaced moves.

“Merlin,” Arthur called softly in the silence of the room.

Merlin waited for Arthur to jump away, all the way to the edge of the bed, as he did every morning. A couple of seconds passed, and nothing happened.

“Good morning,” Merlin whispered, an uncontrollable smile on his lips and a sudden outburst of tenderness in his heart. The king was at his softest version and Merlin got to keep him just a bit longer.

“Stop staring at me, it’s creepy,” came Arthur’s voice next, thick with sleep but firm like an order. His eyes were still closed.

Okay, maybe not his softest version.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, rolling his head back towards the ceiling.

“And your breath’s terrible.”

Definitely not his softest version.

“Prat,” Merlin said, realising the cosy moment was about to come to an end. He went to roll on his side and away from Arthur when the king’s hand strengthened the grip against Merlin’s side, not pulling him closer but not letting him go either. Arthur’s leg, heavy on Merlin’s thinner ones, also spasmed. Merlin didn’t know how to process this, he just settled back where he was.

“Dollophead,” Arthur whispered without opening his eyes.

“What?”

“The other way you used to call me… dollophead.”

Merlin would have lied if he said that rang any bell. “It sounds made up.”

“Made up by an idiot,” Arthur replied as his eyes fluttered open, his lips curled up in a smile Merlin could have only described as sweet. Then Arthur glanced down at their bodies hidden under the duvet, his whole mood darkening. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rolling away, leaving Merlin colder and lonelier like every morning. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin said as he turned on his right side, his whole body craving more contact.

“You say that every morning.”

“Maybe because it is fine?”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, his eyes screening the ceiling. “It’s weird.”

“I don’t find it weird,” Merlin countered immediately.

“That’s because you _are_ weird,” Arthur stated. “I have to pee.”

And just like that, he flopped the duvet open and shot out, while Merlin decided it was time for him to get that glass or two of water. His head throbbed painfully as he stood up from the bed, wondering how Arthur had managed to jump out like that without his vision going completely black.

Merlin was, however, pleased to see Arthur too was back in the duvet cocoon after his visit to the loo. “You should drink some water,” Merlin said softly, offering the king a glass too.

Arthur took it with a grunt as he sat up to drink.

“How are you feeling?” Merlin asked as he took a sip from his own glass, standing next to the bed on his side, one knee dipping in the mattress. “Headache?”

“Not really a headache… I’m just feeling a bit, uhm, under the weather.”

“A bit lazy?”

“I’m never _lazy_ , Merlin,” Arthur retorted. He was planning on sounding offended but couldn’t be bothered, really. “Just recharging my batteries.”

“How do you know that expression?”

“Justin used it yesterday.” Arthur placed the glass on the nightstand and sunk back under the duvet, turning on his stomach, the rain outside growing heavier. Merlin joined him soon after, unsure of what time it even was, but he felt he didn’t care. He just wanted to spend some more time in that sweet state between sleep and awake, sharing the heat of the bed with Arthur. He wiggled his toes in content as he lay on his back, one arm bent under the pillow.

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked, his head sunk in the pillow.

“Mmh, not really,” Merlin mumbled, his eyelids already growing heavier. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

Merlin didn’t really pay attention to the answer as he was about to doze off, until a poke against his ribcage jerked him awake.

“Go make me food,” Arthur’s order came, sounding way less firm than he wanted.

“Later.”

Arthur’s finger poked him sharply against his ribs once more. “Go now.”

Merlin took a deep breath and reminded himself to stay calm and collected and definitely not punch anyone in the face. Instead he grabbed his phone and opened UberEats, holding the device above his face. He dropped it on his nose once at some point, getting Arthur to snicker, but he managed to order some breakfast eventually.

“Fry-up is coming in half an hour,” he announced.

“Good.”

“Your bed is coming too today, at some point.”

Arthur remained silent for a second, halfway between happy to finally get back his well-deserved space and disappointed, for some other reason he couldn’t qualify. Possibly because he knew Merlin’s bed would be better, he reckoned. “About time.”

They ate breakfast in bed, like Merlin had done with a number of lovers before, except this time there was no snogging involved, and then Arthur, who wasn’t feeling lazy, wanted to watch something – not just _anything_ , he wanted to see the show Merlin’s Halloween costume was from. Which meant more time in bed, next to one another, their limbs casually brushing together as they moved. Merlin struggled to think of a better way to spend a rainy hangover day.

*

“This is too small!” Arthur complained once the new bed was fully in place. After an embarrassing number of hours in bed, he’d gone out for a quick run in Holland park while Merlin assembled the newly delivered bed and moved around the furniture in the small bedroom to make space for the new entry. Now the chest of drawers had been pushed under the window and the new bed fitted against the wall between the corner and the door, sideways but in front of the double bed.

“There was no space for a bigger one,” Merlin said.

“I probably don’t even fit in there!”

“Yes, you do, it’s a single bed, half of mine, maybe bigger.”

“I’ve never slept in a bed this small!”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “If you fit on the left side of mine, you fit in this one too.” He realised this couldn’t be a long-term solution, but he didn’t even know what their long-term future looked like. Was Arthur going to find his own place sooner or later? If not, Merlin would need to turn the living room into a second bedroom, wouldn’t he. For now, the single bed would have to do.

“I think you should sleep in this one. You’re used to cramped spaces,” Arthur stated. “Your bed in Camelot was around this size, probably even smaller.”

Merlin wished he remembered, but in the end he agreed. A bed was a bed after all, and he really could do without Arthur’s complaints.

When night came, Merlin wasn’t sure how to proceed, now that Arthur could understand the diaries and had read most of them. Perhaps it was just the ending of their bedtime ritual. As he walked into the bedroom and found Arthur sitting in the middle of the bigger bed with one of the diaries in his hands, Merlin decided to just go to his own new, smaller bed, and maybe read something of his own.

“You’re not coming here?” Arthur asked then, a light frown of disappointment across his face. “No readings?”

“You know I can’t read them… I’d need the enchantment,” Merlin said, sitting down on the new mattress, barely bouncing back. It was firm, too firm even. It was going to take a while to get used to it.

“What if I read to you? For a change,” Arthur said. “I can pick it up where we left off.”

Merlin’s eyes searched for his friend’s blue ones in the dim light of the room, taken aback by the suggestion. In a good way. “Haven’t you read those already, on your own?”

“I can read them again, so you catch up.” Seeing Merlin was very tentative, Arthur suddenly wondered if he’d suggested something wrong. “If you want to, that is,” he was quick to add.

“I do, yes… it sounds nice.”

Merlin hadn’t realised how rarely he was on the receiving end of attentions until he lay down next to Arthur, curled up on himself, his head only inches away from the king’s thighs as he listened to his voice. Usually, Merlin was the one doing the readings, in general doing the spoiling and the pampering and he loved it, absolutely, he was born to serve after all. Even with other friends or partners that he’d had in the life, he would never grow tired of giving.

And yet, there was a pleasure in being still, listening, giving up the duties and just for once enjoying _receiving_.

When Merlin left right before falling asleep, Arthur found the double bed suddenly colder and less comfy than usual. Lifting his head from the pillows, Arthur glanced at his friend on the other side of the room, already half asleep in the smaller bed, and wondered if his absence had anything to do with the lack of cosiness. He pushed the idea away from his brain.

*

The neighbourhood where Merlin lived was quiet, peaceful, not dissimilar to Glastonbury in the layout of the houses and roads and trees. The other neighbourhood Arthur had seen so far, apparently named Camden, was a bit different, slightly louder and more crowded, but then again it was dark and he was on its street for a few minutes only.

Overall, he had reason to believe London was not so bad after all.

That day Merlin decided, with a grin, that they were going _central_. Arthur wondered what that meant and was excited at first to be exploring a new place, even a new area of a town he already knew – something he struggled to wrap his head around, a town so big you could travel half an hour and still be in it.

His excitement faded quickly because this so called central, or, as Merlin specified, the _West End_ , was bustling with cars, and shiny red tall buses, and the odd helicopter, and even more with people. Overwhelmingly so. Arthur had never seen so many people in his life all together like the ones crowding these pavements, walking and chatting, going in and out of shops, forming some sort of human tide expanding and moving in different directions.

“What are those?” Arthur asked, pointing at some balls of different sizes apparently suspended mid-air several feet off the ground.

“It’s the Christmas decorations… they’ll get switched on in a few weeks I think.” Merlin could swear Christmas in London came earlier every year.

It was only when they reached a round square with gigantic displays flashing pictures in colours so bright they reflected on the nearby buildings in broad daylight, that Arthur finally decided to voice his discomfort.

“I don’t like it here,” he said, shuddering as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Here? Piccadilly?”

“This whole place… it’s too much.”

Merlin attempted a smile. “It’s okay, this is the busiest area during the weekend… and it’s not even peak tourism season.”

Arthur had no idea what that meant and was not interested in asking. Another shiver ran down his spine, his mind struggling to keep up with all the input, the noise, the traffic coming from every corner, the herds of people, the neon lights. No nature in sight, anywhere. Not even the sky was left alone.

“I don’t like it here that much either, I only come here for the theatres,” Merlin admitted, saddened to see his friend so grumpy. He was tempted to take Arthur by the arm to keep him closer but refrained from doing so. “You’ll like the next area more.”

Merlin had planned to head to Chinatown and then Covent Garden for a full tour but decided to skip those in favour of a more royal-friendly route. Arthur powered through another massive square with a giant column right in the middle and even more cars speeding through the streets, so fast that there were lights purposefully placed to tell people when they could and couldn’t cross a road. He was hating this.

“And why does it even say to look right and look left?! Where else am I going to look?!” Arthur grunted, his hands pointing down at the white letters on the black concrete in front of this feet.

“Uhm, in most of the world people drive on the other side of the road… it’s useful to remind tourists that it’s different here,” Merlin explained as they waited for the pedestrian light to go green.

“They’re obviously wrong,” Arthur stated. “We are in the right, and they should follow our lead.”

Merlin snickered. “Funnily enough we are in the right… do you remember Napoleon? The French Emperor?”

As Merlin told the anecdote of why some countries drive on the left and others on the right, they headed towards a quieter corner of the square and walked under an imponent three-arch passage. Suddenly, the number of cars was significantly lower, and the concrete was burgundy under their shoes. To their left, trees and bushes were bordering the road revealing the sight of a park beyond them.

Merlin was right, Arthur thought, wherever they were, this was better.

“That’s the Palace… where the Queen lives,” Merlin said.

Arthur’s eyes moved away from the green area and there, at the very end of this large, long burgundy road, stood a golden statue in front of a majestic palace, misty in the distance, and yet he could recognise the place he’d seen on Netflix before. They walked all the way there, and Arthur could only feel humbled while staring at the gates, reminded that someone else had his throne now. Watching it on Merlin’s telly was one thing, being there in person was another.

He gripped the black and golden gate bars with reverence, the metal cold under his hands. He didn’t know if the Queen was in there, somewhere, but he would have loved to meet her.

One day, perhaps.

“This could have been my home,” he whispered. If only he were born in this century, he would have lived in there, with Gwen, ruling over a country much bigger than his kingdom ever was. He would have had servants, people cooking for him, dressing him, taking care of everything, just like he used to have and he was supposed to have. Yet another casual reminder of how little he belonged in this life.

There was no such thing as two monarchs in the same kingdom. The throne only ever belonged to one individual when their predecessors became dust in the earth. Between himself and Elizabeth, he knew very well which one of them was supposed to be where.

“You okay?” Merlin asked. “You know thinking isn’t good for you.”

He was rewarded with a not-so-light punch on his shoulder as Arthur decided to force those recurring thoughts out of his mind, for now. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds, playing hide and seek, lighting up the gold of the Winged Victory towering over them.

They crossed the park next, walking side by side among the trees coloured in oranges and browns and yellows, contrasting starkly against the soft green grass. For a moment, Arthur forgot he was in a town, and a big one at that. As he strolled along the small lake, dry leaves crunching beneath his shoes, with people chattering all around him and children trying to feed the ducks and squirrels, it was easier to relax and believe he was far away from the chaos he’d only witnessed an hour earlier.

But the park soon came to an end, and they encountered another traffic-heavy area as they walked past a golden building with towers and pinnacles, some of it hidden under a white sheet, for renovation works, Merlin said, then they crossed a bridge to continue their journey along the river. Apart from the weird wheel they walked under, all steel and thick poles and an extraordinarily long queue of people, Arthur quite liked this area too. The breeze moved the water of the river generating little waves that crashed along the banks, the air increasingly filling with a sweet scent that Arthur couldn’t quite define.

“What’s that place?” Arthur asked at some point as dark towers came into sight on the horizon. They were tall, taller than any building they’d encountered so far, and made of dark steel and glass intersecting in abnormal shapes all the way up. The increasing lack of sunlight and thickening of the clouds made them look even darker, like an upcoming storm. Just looking at them made his stomach clench, like when he used to venture into enemy territory.

“That’s the City,” Merlin replied.

“What city? Have we left London?”

“Uh, no, that’s just how that area is called… those are mainly offices… it’s where people work. Mostly,” Merlin explained. 

“Do you work there too?”

“More or less… see the white building, with the dome?” He pointed to St Paul’s Cathedral on the opposite side of the river, tall and bright and sticking out from its surroundings. “My hospital is a few minutes from it.”

Arthur nodded. The more they walked, the closer they got to that dark area that he’d rather avoid if at all possible.

“Do we need to go there?” he asked, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the dark buildings.

“Why? Are you scared?” Merlin teased.

“I am not _scared_ , Merlin,” Arthur stated, and it was true, in a way. It wasn’t fear they elicited in him, but rather unease. Discomfort.

“We don’t have to go there, if you don’t want to,” Merlin said softly, sensing his friend’s unwillingness. “But there is one last place I wanted you to see… it’s the oldest building in London.”

“Okay, let’s go there.”

“We do need to walk past some of the skyscrapers to get there.”

_Skyscrapers_ , Arthur thought. _What an odd word_. “Sure, fine.”

The skyscrapers got closer and closer until they were just on the other side of the river, dark and menacing like crests of a steel wave about to crash onto the ground. Some others were on their side of the river too, one in particular standing tall as a spike, as if it was trying to cut the clouds open, and another one, round, short, pending on one side, completely unbalanced, and threatening to collapse any second now. Arthur was grateful they weren’t walking directly under them; if they looked dizzyingly tall now, at safe distance, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how alienating it would be to stand under them and look up. He forced himself to stay focused on the river, on the water cresting in the breeze, and on that very unusual bridge with real towers delimiting their sight now just a few feet away from them.

And then Merlin pointed at something on the opposite bank, and Arthur realised immediately that must have been the oldest building because it looked like something he used to know. A short, square building, made of beige stones, towered by four ridiculously small towers on each corner, each topped with a waving flag.

Arthur leaned over the railing on the river, studying the little castle, its narrow windows, the stone wall that surrounded it, all things he could have almost remembered from Camelot, and yet, instead of feeling relieved of seeing what could have been a piece of home, he could only think of how out of place it looked, just planted there on the edge of the river, a piece of history surrounded by the dark towers and roads and buses.

“It looks out of place,” he said out loud, noticing that Merlin had joined him against the railing. “Like it doesn’t belong here.” Like it was forgotten there in the centuries, like for some unclear reason it stood the test of time although it wasn’t supposed to. _Like me_ , he wanted to add. He too felt like this building, oddly surviving in a world where he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“I think there’s beauty in it,” Merlin said. “In the contrast.”

Arthur didn’t see it. There was no beauty, just a framework of puzzle pieces put together without a meaning, without a purpose, without fitting together at all. However, he decided not to voice his real line of thought. “Such a poet.”

They remained there a bit longer, their eyes travelling from the river to the buildings to each other, the cool breeze ruffling their hair, the sky now grey with clouds.

“So how do we get home from here?” Merlin asked after a few minutes.

Arthur shot him a very confused look. “Are you asking _me_?”

“Yes… if you were here alone, how would you go home?”

“I don’t even know where we are!”

Merlin led him to the closest map panel he could spot. “These are everywhere in London, they tell you where you are and which direction you’re facing.”

“Thank you, Merlin, I know what a map is,” Arthur retorted as he spotted the ‘you are here’ arrow. They were just near Tower Bridge. On the other side of the river he spotted the sign that would usually signal the entrance to the underground trains. The map only covered a very restricted area. He tapped the tube sign on the plastic panel. “We need to go there, right? We can’t walk home from here.”

“It’s a bit far and it’s probably going to rain soon, the tube is better, yes,” Merlin agreed. “How do we get to the tube station?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, analysing the nest of roads. “We cross the river. And then, uh, once we are on the other side, we go left, through this… little garden.”

They did, Arthur’s eyes travelling from the water beneath his feet to the tall towers as they walked under them. These too looked like an entrance to a castle, instead of merely decorative pieces on a bridge full of cars.

“What do we do now? Which lines do we take?” Merlin asked again as they stood in front of the tube map inside the station.

Arthur had rarely seen a map this confusing in his whole life, a labyrinth of lines in different colours, some full and some dotted, with names that meant nothing to him. “This map makes no sense,” he stated.

“You just need to find the start point and the end point. Each name is a station.”

Arthur looked around and learned the station they were in was called Tower Hill, which did make sense, really. He scanned the map again and found the name somewhere on the bottom right area. “We’re here.”

“And where do we need to go?”

“It was, uh…” Arthur searched his mind for the information. He’d taken the tube a couple of times now, the latest one just a few hours earlier, it was a matter of remembering the name. His eyes kept scanning the map in a frenzy, almost looking for inspiration. “Oh! Here!” he exclaimed with a grin. “Notting Hill Gate.”

“Very good!”

“And the yellow line goes straight there, so we can take that one.”

“Which direction?”

“West, we’re going west.”

After they finally reached the flat, Arthur was overjoyed with pride for managing to get home from the other side of London, and Merlin shared the sentiment with him.

Later, while the curry simmered slowly in a pan in the kitchen, spreading the spiced scent in the whole flat, Merlin retrieved a set of keys and placed them on top of Arthur’s open palm.

“Keys?” the king asked, studying the little metal objects. Much smaller and handier than the keys he used to remember.

“To this flat. So you can go wherever you want while I’m at work,” Merlin said with a smile.

Something clicked in Arthur’s head. “That’s what today was about? Making sure I knew how to get home?”

“Yes.”

“I was the King, Merlin, you should have known my sense of direction is flawless.”

“Eh, good that we’ve proven it.”

In the days that followed, Merlin came up with more and more things that he described as necessary. Apparently, Arthur was going to need documents proving his identification and education records and something called vaccinations that involved being stung with a needle.

“I’ve input your profile into the government database, with magic,” Merlin explained one evening, that Arthur learned to be the actual Halloween night. They were sitting on the sofa in the living room and Merlin had his laptop open on his knees.

“Isn’t that treason?” Arthur asked.

“Let’s not go into details… here, look, now you exist!” Merlin said enthusiastically, pointing at the screen.

Arthur leaned forward to read. “You misspelled my name, you _idiot_!” he complained, delivering a well-adjusted slap on his friend’s nape. “It’s P-e-n-d-r-a-g-o-n, not Pendagon!”

“I did it on purpose… you don’t want to be called Pendragon, you won’t be taken seriously.”

“It’s my father’s name! My family’s names!”

“It’s a legend! Trust me, it’s better this way. More anonymous.”

Arthur sighed, leaning back against the seatback. He knew Merlin went by another name now but for himself, he would have rather keeping his old one. This was one more step away from his true identity.

“Now we request a passport… once you have the passport, we open a bank account and get you a phone, and they you can look for a job,” Merlin said, shutting his laptop and putting it on the side.

“I don’t need a job, I have one already,” Arthur countered. “I am the Once and Future King. That’s my job.”

“I need you to chip in… you know, with bills and other stuff,” Merlin said, a bit shyly.

Arthur looked to his side, suddenly concerned about the topic that was just brought up. “Money? I thought you were rich?”

“I have savings… that allow me to live comfortably-more than comfortably,” Merlin explained, looking down. “But I don’t earn loads, monthly… it’s enough for myself, but… there’s two of us now, and we have a good lifestyle… if I keep this up, paying everything for the both of us, at some point there won’t be any savings left.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. He’d just taken for granted that Merlin had plenty of means to support both of them, never even bothered to check with him if this was really the case. “I’ll find a job. I’ve never meant to be a burden to you.”

“What? No, Arthur, you’re not a burden!” Merlin said, panicked that Arthur had completely misunderstood. “You’re not, really. I’m happy to provide for you… I’m just not sure I can keep doing it in the long run.”

Arthur was already thinking that he was the King, and nobody should have to provide for him, rather he was supposed to provide for his people, but something else Merlin said made his eyes snap up to meet his friend’s worried ones.

“Long run?” he asked. “How much… longer do you think this will take?”

“This?”

“The quest… how much longer before the quest reveals itself, and we can get on with it.”

Merlin felt his throat tighten in a knot because he absolutely hated this topic and every occasional reminder of how much Arthur hated it here. Every time Merlin believed that Arthur was getting used to this life, enjoying it maybe, something new would come up and Merlin was forced to face the ugliest truth. Arthur was in pain here, every day, even when he smiled and laughed and seemed to have a good time.

“I don’t know,” he answered in the end, genuinely, thanking his body for not making his voice tremble. He leaned his head back against the seatback and Arthur mirrored him.

“Do you ever wonder about it? About what I was brought here to do?”

“I’ve spent my whole existence wondering when you’d be back, and then you came when I least expected it,” Merlin said. “I don’t wonder anymore… when the time is ripe, we’ll know.”

Arthur cracked a smile. “You’ve become a bit too wise for my liking.”

“Fifteen centuries do that to you.”

*

Arthur had seen videos of fireworks and although they seemed nice, he really didn’t see what the fuss was about.

And yet, he was standing in the cold night air in the middle of the park near Alexandra Palace, with Merlin and Aga and some other of their friends, waiting for the show to start, apparently a celebration of that time someone failed to blow up the Parliament building. Or something like that, Arthur should have asked Merlin to explain that again.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his new coat, that he’d recently bought with Merlin’s card. That he borrowed from Merlin. With Merlin’s consent and full knowledge, of course.

_“You’ve been out shopping the whole day!” Merlin had said after getting back home from work, his arms crossed to his chest, while Arthur stood in the middle of the bedroom with piles of clothes and clothing bags spread all over the two beds. Merlin’s Monzo app had been buzzing the whole day with a new payment every half an hour or so._

_“You said I could take your card, that you don’t need it at work because you have the apple money!” Arthur had countered defensively._

_“It’s Apple Pay… and I thought you’d get yourself a coffee or a sandwich, I didn’t think you were planning to loot Westfield!” Though, in all fairness, Merlin had been very relieved that Arthur had decided to hit Westfield and not Regent’s Street – those payments would have looked quite different if they’d been made in Burberry instead of Topman._

“Are you cold?” Merlin asked softly, walking closer to Arthur, his breath condensing in front of his face.

“No,” Arthur lied, trying to hide the shiver that ran down his spine.

“I told you to bring a scarf,” Merlin teased.

_“Right, so we’re picking up Aga on the way and meet the others at the Palace entrance,” Merlin had said back home, grabbing the car keys as they were about to leave. “Do you have a scarf?”_

_“It’s not that cold.”_

_“It gets breezy and we’re going to be outside for a while.”_

_“I am used to being outside in the night, Merlin, don’t you remember the hunting trips and expeditions?” Arthur had said. “I spent entire nights outside, in winter, more times that I can count. I will be fine for a couple of hours.”_

_Merlin had been tempted to roll his eyes but refrained from doing so. “Okay, if you say so.”_

“I am not cold, Me- Emrys,” Arthur repeated. He still needed to get used to using Merlin’s other name when they were around other people.

“Sure, okay.”

After a blow of chilly air hit him, sending one more shiver down his spine, Arthur decided he should have definitely brought a scarf. “You know what, I might go get a hot drink,” he mumbled, avoiding Merlin’s smug smile that was practically screaming ‘told you’.

“You have ten minutes before the show starts,” Merlin advised.

“Oh, you’re going for a hot drink?” Aga asked, suddenly appearing between the two men. “I’m coming with you, I’m dying for a hot choc!”

Arthur walked alongside her towards the stall that was selling hot drinks and treats, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He liked her. She was nice, funny, he could see why Merlin was so fond of her.

He listened as they chatted about the challenges of life in London, of getting used to it. Arthur noted how she had such a peculiar way of speaking, her lisp coming out in every sentence, her accent heavy and distinctly non-British, and yet her sentences were nearly perfect. Arthur found it fascinating that, Merlin had said, London was full of people that had actively learned English as an additional language on top of their own native one. Arthur wouldn’t even know where to start.

They returned to the group with the two hot chocolates just when the show was about to start.

The music was the first thing to begin, in the silence of the night, like an introduction to what was to come. Then the first firework hit the sky with a bang, as a wave of surprised gasps raised from the park, and Arthur believed he’d felt the noise resonate in his chest.

This was nothing like the video.

This was loud, and colourful, and immense, each explosion seemed to fill the whole sky in sight, from corner to corner, lighting it ablaze.

While Arthur stared at the show in awe, his pupils dilating in wonder as different fireworks exploded in different colours and shapes, Merlin couldn’t help staring at Arthur, at the way his head was tipped back and his mouth slightly open, the way his hands curled up around the hot paper cup and squeezed involuntarily with each loud bang, the way the reds and greens and yellows reflected intermittently on the king’s face and eyes.

Merlin liked fireworks, but watching Arthur love them so much to be utterly mesmerised by them was by far the better view.

Suddenly, a nudge on his right elbow forced Merlin to look away from Arthur and to face Aga’s widest grin. She pulled his sleeve until he bent to her side, so that she could speak closer to his ear.

“The fireworks are up there, you know,” she whispered, her hand curled to the side of her mouth. Merlin thanked the dark of the night for hiding the embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks.

He moved his mouth closer to her ear in return. “It’s not like that,” he said.

“What are you two on about?” Arthur’s voice covered the music for a second and Merlin straightened up immediately.

“Nothing!” he said, while Aga snickered taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

Arthur’s attention was quickly captured back by the fireworks display, and this time Merlin did his best to look up too until Aga nudged him again on his side.

She puckered her lips and pointed at Arthur with her forefinger. ‘Kiss him!’ she mouthed.

Merlin shook his head more times than he had to, his eyes wide in a mix of confusion and concern.

She moved her finger to her cheek, tapping twice, and Merlin frowned, unable to understand what she meant.

‘On the cheek?’ she mouthed again.

Suddenly the extremely awkward memory of the nose tip kiss took over Merlin’s mind making him cringe. ‘No!’ he mouthed back. A kiss on the lips would have been dangerous and completely wrong, but a kiss on the cheek had the potential of being even worse, a misunderstanding, a complete embarrassment that would just make Arthur want to mock Merlin to death. 

Aga sighed in disappointment and pulled out her phone to film some of the display. This time, Merlin did the same, trying to limit the time he glanced at Arthur. He couldn’t deny it was a struggle not to stare at him; Arthur’s eyes were the same blue as the night sky, making it look as if the fireworks were happening in his irises. Merlin could have stared at him the whole night.

They made eye-contact at some point. Merlin immediately looked away, conscious to have been caught red-handed.

Arthur frowned for a second; then, as he looked down at his hot chocolate, he seemed to have an epiphany. “Oh, you want some of this?” he asked, nodding at the cup in his hands.

“Uhm, yes, please,” Merlin replied, taking the easy way out that his friend’s naivety had just offered him. He didn’t fancy hot chocolate at all, but he still took the cup from Arthur’s hands. “Thanks.”

“You could have asked, you know… with your voice,” Arthur said, one eyebrow raised. “You really are weird,” he added in a whisper, his head shaking, before he returned his attention to the sky.

On the drive home, after they dropped Aga off at her place, Arthur kept repeating over and over again how much he’d loved the show, and Merlin wished he could have told him he noticed.

“They were… so beautiful, you know?” Arthur said, unable to wipe away the smile on his lips. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I know, I like them too.”

“Can we go again?” Arthur asked, his voice coloured with excitement. “Are there any more shows like this?”

“There should be more this week, yes… I’ll have a look at what tickets are left.”

They ended up going to two more displays. Arthur stared at the sky, awe-struck like the first time, and Merlin tried to get as many glimpses of his friend as he could. He wished he could move closer, take Arthur’s hand and lean his head on his shoulder.

He didn’t.

*

The passport came sooner than expected and so did the phone, which Arthur still didn’t want.

“I bought it like mine, I hope you don’t mind,” Merlin said, handing over a shiny, black, brand new iPhone. “Be careful when you handle it, it’s fragile and _really_ expensive.”

Arthur took it with care, turned it in his hands, heavying it, examining it. One side was fully pitch black, while the other had a round something on the top left corner, like an eye, and the symbol of a grey bitten apple in the middle. If Arthur had understood anything from hanging with Merlin’s friends, it was that the fully pitch black side was actually a screen, and would come to life if the right buttons were pressed.

“Yours is different,” Arthur noted. “It’s blue, for a start, and it’s thicker.”

“It’s blue, yes, but it’s the same model,” Merlin said, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. “And this is a cover, it’s to protect it if I drop it, so that it doesn’t break.” He pulled with his thumb on one of the corners and the cover slipped off the phone. “See?”

“What do I need a phone for, again?” Arthur asked, slumping back against the sofa.

Merlin explained once again the importance of having a phone number and a working email address in order to find a job. He wasn’t going to force anything else on Arthur, no apps, no social media, just the basics, for now, until Arthur asked for more.

The first thing they did was turn it on, pressing on the side buttons until the screen turned white and the black apple appeared in the middle.

“What’s the apple thing? It’s everywhere,” Arthur asked, awkwardly holding his phone with both hands.

“It’s just the brand logo… like a crest,” Merlin explained in a way his friend would follow. “The people who made it marked it with their crest.”

He helped Arthur with the basic setup and account creation, trying not to laugh at the way Arthur used the screen at first, pressing the virtual buttons as if he was pressing real ones, using so much strength that his finger pad turned white.

“You don’t… you don’t need to put that much pressure,” Merlin said. “Just a light touch… like this, see?” He demonstrated, flicking through the language options using just the very tip of his finger.

Arthur groaned but learned quickly.

Then came the part about security.

“What do you mean the phone _recognises me_?!” Arthur asked, completely baffled.

“You show it your face now, and the phone will remember it… sort of… so when you look at it, it unlocks. Does it make sense?”

It really did not make sense. Arthur groaned again as frustrated as ever, letting the phone drop from his hand. Merlin thanked the heavens that they were on the sofa, so the phone landed nicely on the cushions.

“Why does it need to be locked anyway?!” Arthur asked.

“Uhm, a lot of your personal information is going to be in there… your bank account, for one… other sensitive data too. You don’t want it to fall in the wrong hands,” Merlin replied.

Arthur picked up the phone again and proceeded with the facial recognition setup. Rotating his head around like that was a bit weird, he felt ridiculous, but at the same time he appreciated that he could use the screen as a mirror. One more grunt escaped his lips when he was asked to set a pin code.

“A 4-digit code?” he asked, frowning at the screen. “Like 1-2-3-4?”

“Uhm, yes, just a bit more complicated, maybe?” Merlin said tentatively. “The point of this is that other people shouldn’t be able to guess what the number is.”

“So a random combination?”

“Can be… it should be something you remember easily. An important date is a common choice, for example.”

“What’s your number?”

Merlin figured he might as well say it, he had nothing to hide from Arthur anyway. “It’s 2-4-1-2.”

“2-4-1-2,” Arthur repeated. “That’s the same number that unlocks your card… the pink one.”

“It’s also my Monzo pin, yes,” Merlin said. The second he heard these words back, he realised he should probably change it sometimes, just in case he got hacked or something.

“2-4-1-2… is that a date? 24th December?” Arthur enquired. “What’s so special about that date?”

“It’s my favourite day.”

“How come?”

Merlin shrugged. “Christmas Eve.”

Arthur eyed him suspiciously, but his brain couldn’t handle any more questions. “Can I use my birthday? Or the date you set as my birthday.”

When it was time to select a date to indicate Arthur’s birthday, Merlin had chosen the day Arthur had come back to him, 12th October. His real birthday was sometime in autumn anyway, but it would have been virtually impossible to calculate a more precise date, given that Merlin could not remember how the calendars worked before the Gregorian one was introduced.

“1-2-1-0?” Merlin said. “Why not, go for it.”

Arthur did.

The best part, however, came when Merlin showed him how to make calls.

“The first time you have to type someone’s number, here,” Merlin said, followed by a practical demonstration using his own number. “Then you can save it, and add the person’s name. So the next time you want to call them, you just press the name instead. Try.”

“You saved yourself as Emrys,” Arthur said, looking down at his contacts page with just one name in it.

Merlin looked down. “In case I’m calling you and someone sees it.” The truth was, he didn’t even think about it anymore. He hadn’t been Merlin for anyone in a full millennium, since Geoffrey’s book came into circulation. Every time he signed something, or referred to himself, he was always Emrys. “Does it bother you?”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur replied. “Do you… want me to call you that? Emrys?” He figured he should have asked this a while ago. “All the time, even when we’re-“

“No! No,” Merlin interrupted him. “Merlin is the name my mother gave me… It’s good to hear it, after so long.”

Arthur’s lips twitched up in a smile. “Okay.”

Merlin smiled back.

“So, let’s see what happens if I press here,” Arthur said, touching the name ‘Emrys’ with his index finger.

The screen turned purple and a series of new buttons came up; Merlin took a minute to explain all of them, while a sudden buzzing noise filled the room. Then, he grabbed his own phone, pressed the green button, and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” Merlin said with a smirk.

Arthur mirrored his friend’s pose and also brought his phone to his ear.

“Can you hear me?” Merlin spoke again, enjoying the sight of Arthur’s eyes suddenly open wide, his jaw hanging slightly open.

“This is weird,” Arthur said, looking at his friend. “I can hear you twice.”

Merlin held his hand up to signal Arthur to wait, and then he left the room. A few seconds later he spoke again, and this time Arthur fully realised what the phone meant. He could hear Merlin’s voice, a bit distorted but still clear as day, even if Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

Nothing short of magic. He grinned.

In the days that followed, he kept phoning Merlin every time they were in different rooms, until it drove Merlin to exasperation.

Then, they laughed.

*

Finding a job hadn’t been as hard as Merlin had believed. He’d prepared Arthur’s CV with a fake, hardly-traceable employment history, mostly overseas, and sent it to a bunch of those companies that had two prerequisites: open to low-skilled, inexperienced workers, and in need of extra help with the upcoming Christmas season.

The first interview, with Primark, Arthur failed. They called him almost out of the blue, he was unprepared, didn’t know how to answer the questions. He went into his second interview, with Tesco this time, fully prepared, having rehearsed potential questions and answers in his head, which landed him the job, a part-time customer assistant – whatever that meant. Twenty-four hours a week over four days, apparently enough to support with expenses.

The night before his first shift, due to start at 6 am, Arthur barely slept, his heart racing in his chest, his mind unable to switch off. He hadn’t felt like this since his last battle as king, at Camlann, and that time Gwen had been with him, holding him during what ended up being their last night together.

Now he was alone, in a bed not his own, in a city he struggled to come to terms with, ill-prepared to face a challenge unlike anything he had before. A battle with an unknown enemy, in a mystery territory, to be fought with weapons he wasn’t sure he possessed.

When his alarm went off at half past 4 it was almost a relief. He got up in the dark room, careful not to wake Merlin up, and went to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror above the sink, in the bright artificial light, looked back at him like a ghost he could barely recognise.

Despite his attempt to get ready in silence, Merlin’s head still popped up in the living room while Arthur was putting on his shoes.

“Hey,” Merlin whispered, his voice thick with sleep. He leaned against the door, rubbing an eye with his wrist.

“Oh, hey,” Arthur greeted, glancing over his own shoulder as he finished tying his laces. “What are you doing up? Your alarm isn’t for another hour.”

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Merlin said with a smile.

“Thanks.” The former king stood up from the sofa and grabbed his coat and gloves, getting ready for his half an hour walk to his new workplace. It was a concept he was struggling with.

“Are you nervous?” Merlin asked.

“You know I don’t get nervous,” Arthur replied, buttoning up his coat. “It’s… like a battle. I’ve fought and won battles before. I’m used to it.”

He told the truth, he wasn’t nervous. He was positively terrified. And he wondered if Merlin was seeing right through him.

“You’ll do great.”

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, smoothing his coat over his chest, before heading past Merlin towards the front door.

“Call me, if you want, when you’re done,” Merlin said. “If I’m busy, I’ll call you back straight away.”

Arthur nodded again. “Thank you.”

Then, Merlin spread his arms at his sides, his palms facing each other, in a silent invitation. “Hug for good luck?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed but doing nothing to hide the smile that appeared on his face. Ignoring the offer, he shut the door behind himself and headed out of the building into the night.

The shift went just as he dreaded; a constant, buzzing reminder that he was not supposed to be there, in a neon-bright environment, wearing a blue polo shirt, learning about means and technologies he could barely wrap his head around, being looked down on by everyone as if he was an utter idiot for forgetting how to scan products or his badge or how to use a till.

“Why don’t you, uh… focus on inventory management, for today?” his new supervisor told him at some point. “Do you think you can do that? …Stacking shelves?”

Arthur wanted to scream off the top of his lungs that he was the king, the Once and Future King, brought back to Earth to lead Albion into battle, not to stack products onto shelves, but the reality was, in this world, he was an idiot. He knew nothing about technology, very little about anything else, which was making this job very hard, and Merlin wasn’t even here to protect him, help him.

Nobody was mean to him or anything. It wasn’t their fault. They were as nice as they could be.

In their eyes, Arthur was just the dumb new guy. And they were right.

When the shift was finally over, he was almost surprised to see daylight outside. He knew the time had passed, obviously, and yet the artificial light inside made him lose track of it. It could have been still night, or it could have been rainy or sunny, and he wouldn’t have known.

He went home just to eat something and get changed before a run in Hyde Park. He ran side to side, all two miles of it, so fast that his heart threatened to come out of his chest, wondering if he ran fast enough maybe he could disappear, and then he ran some more, until his knees hurt. He stopped when he reached Marble Arch, bending over, his hands on his knees, taking a few deep breaths, drops of sweat running down his forehead and temples.

There was no escape from the city. The park was big, but it always came to an end eventually, and there were more buildings, more cars, more roads, more neon lights, more noise.

He tried to find his way to the middle of the park, far away from everything and everyone. The lake was almost a good spot, somewhere he could hear the people chattering and laughing but not the cars, somewhere he could see the trees but not the buildings. He lay down on the damp grass, his hands under his head, looking up at the cloudy sky, pretending for a while that he was home where he was supposed to be, where he belonged.

When Merlin came home, later that day, the house was silent.

“Arthur?” he called, taking off his coat and placing it on the hanger.

“I’m in here,” came the muffled voice from behind the closed bathroom door.

Merlin walked closer and leaned against it, his head resting against the white wood. “How was it today? You didn’t call me.” Merlin had left his phone on vibration during work, something he never really did, to make sure he wouldn’t miss Arthur’s call. He even texted at some point in the afternoon, just to make sure everything was okay. Arthur never called and never replied.

“It was… hard,” Arthur replied with a sigh. “It’s not easy to fit in.”

“It’s never easy,” Merlin said. He could sense the blue mood through the door.

“No, it’s not.”

“Did it go well though?” Merlin was going to ask if he had fun before realising it probably wasn’t the best way to put it.

“Everyone treated me like an idiot.”

“Oh, finally someone noticed!” Merlin joked, his lips curled up in a smirk, thinking some banter would cheer up his friend a bit.

When the only noise that came was a burbling of water, Merlin nervously bit his own lower lip, suddenly aware of the mistake he just made. This wasn’t the time for joking.

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” he said. “I was… can I come in?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked that, he only knew that he needed to see Arthur, be close to him, in the same space as him, give him the comfort that was obviously needed.

The answer came a second later. “It’s unlocked.”

With some level of uncertainty and regret for the previous misplaced joke, Merlin twisted the door handle and walked in the bathroom.

Arthur was soaking in the bathtub, his head against the ceramic edge, his eyes closed, his whole body covered with water except for his kneecaps poking out. His running clothes had been discarded in a corner of the room. There were no bubbles left in the water, and no smell in the room either; Merlin assumed Arthur had been in there a while.

Sitting on the closed toilet would have been the safer choice, but Merlin decided instead to kneel beside the tub, his chin resting on his joined hands on top of tub edge, close to where Arthur’s head was. The king’s eyes fluttered open at the new presence next to him.

“Was it that bad?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged, the water rippling softly around his chest. “I just don’t belong.”

“It was the first day, give yourself some time.”

“I would need to give myself fifteen centuries.”

Merlin studied his friend’s face, the light frown on his forehead, his wet hair made darker by water, the sorrow veiling his eyes. “You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” he said softly. “The money… we don’t need it urgently. You can find something else… later on.”

Arthur scoffed. “When have you ever seen me give up a fight?”

“I’m just saying, you have the choice.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done, like I always do.” Besides, Arthur thought, it wasn’t as if there could be any other job suitable for him. He just didn’t belong at all. “I just meant… it was one of the hardest challenges I’ve had to face. And I’ve been to war.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up and Merlin never admired his king’s bravery more. Being the newcomer in a new, foreign environment would have been challenging for anyone.

He dipped his fingertips in the bathwater to find it barely lukewarm. “How long have you been in here?”

“What time is it?”

“Half six. Ish.”

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the piece of information. “Oh. A bit, then.”

“Time to come out. You can keep moping while you get dressed,” Merlin said, standing up.

“I don’t _mope_!” Arthur retorted, sitting up and splashing some water over the edge with the movement.

“Sorry, uh… You can keep _venting_ ,” Merlin amended, nodding as he pronounced the last word.

He was about to leave the bathroom when Arthur’s voice called him back.

“Merlin, wait.”

Merlin spun around on his heels. “Yes?”

Arthur was looking at him expectantly, for some long few seconds, building up the courage to make his request. This time, he failed miserably, and he redirected his gaze down to the water.

Thankfully Merlin didn’t need any words to understand. “You want me to… assist?”

Arthur felt silly because he didn’t need anyone’s help to come out of the bathtub and put on his clothes, Merlin was not his servant anymore. Nevertheless, Arthur wondered if it was wrong, wanting to feel like a king again, even for a few minutes, after being treated like an idiot the whole day.

“Can you?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Merlin replied softly, a bit surprised at a request that hadn’t come in weeks, but not any less eager. He would never not take care of his king, if given the choice. “Always.”

Arthur didn’t know if Merlin had fully understood his motivations, but he took his slim hand when it was offered, as he stepped out of the tub, the water closing up behind him, drops running down his body and onto the mat. When Merlin smiled to him, lovingly, he smiled back.

Merlin helped him into the white bathrobe, enveloping his king’s body in the fluffy white cotton, tying it around his waist, his hands lingering on the fabric sometimes a bit longer than strictly necessary. He’d missed this, being allowed to dote on his friend like this.

After pulling the hood up, Merlin’s hands cradled Arthur’s head over the absorbent fabric, massaging slightly with circular motions, masking the cuddle under an attempt to dry the king’s hair, his own eyes holding up Arthur’s blue, grateful ones. They hadn’t been so close in weeks; Merlin was unable to lose the wide, cheek-to-cheek grin spread on his face.

“You know what,” Merlin said, his thumbs circling his friend’s temples. “I had planned roast chicken for tonight, but I think we should get pizza. What do you think?”

“I agree,” Arthur replied.

“Yeah? Pizza it is, then.”

Arthur wasn’t sure whether it was the circularity of the movements, or the perfect amount of pressure, or both, but whatever Merlin’s hands were doing on his head was unbelievably soothing. For a second, Arthur found himself wishing he could lay his head against Merlin’s forehead, or shoulder, close his eyes and just unashamedly enjoy the attention.

He repressed the thought very quickly, blaming it on the mood of the day.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said instead, mourning the end of the massage when Merlin dropped his hands.

“You sure?”

“Yes… thank you. For indulging me.”

Merlin nodded, his smile gradually retreating, the warmth in his heart and stomach not quite. _Thank you for letting me_ , he wanted to say, but didn’t. “Anytime.”

He walked away, wanting to leave Arthur some privacy.

“Oh, and those aren’t going to climb into the laundry basket by themselves, you know,” he said, pointing at the running gear abandoned on the floor.

He shut the bathroom door just in time before the dirty running shorts could hit him in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little disclaimer: I do not work nor have I ever worked at Tesco (or for the NHS)


	7. Here I am, I've come so far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here I am with the new chapter/the continuation of the previous one :) thank you so much for all your support! Following your feedback I realised this is going to be focusing more and more on Arthur's journey so I added that to the tags, thanks for that!  
> Also I worked out this fic will probably have 11 or 12 chapters and I'm currently writing number 10, so we're past half way... I did say this was going to be slow burn didn't I?  
> Enjoy xx

Arthur woke up the following morning at the same time and with the same mood, with the only difference that he now knew exactly what he was dreading.

He was back to stacking shelves under the artificial light less than a minute after setting foot in. Only a handful of customers were around, Arthur couldn’t tell if they were early birds, or very late night owls. Or perhaps just people back from a night shift, like Merlin did sometimes.

Arthur was almost done with the first box of beans tins when he slipped on the wet floor and fell against the rest of the boxes, carefully stacked on top of one another on the trolley, pushing them down onto the floor with a thud that resonated down the whole building. As if that wasn’t enough bad luck, the very first box opened up and the tins started rolling around the floor, rattling so loud that Arthur wondered if somebody heard that down in the management’s office.

He promptly pulled himself back onto his feet, meeting the eyes of his colleague just further down the aisle, who had to repress a laugh as he pointed at the yellow ‘wet floor’ sign. Arthur could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment, as he found himself wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Day one?”

A warm baritone voice made him spin around on his heels. Suddenly he was facing this tall guy, so tall that Arthur only reached his chin, dark skin, eyes and hair as black as the night. One of his eyebrows was crooked up and his plump lips were stretched in an amused grin. He was also wearing the blue uniform.

Arthur kneeled down to start picking up the fallen tins. “Day two, actually.”

“Ah, I see.”

Arthur was about to ask him if he was a supervisor when the man kneeled down too to help out.

“Had the same thing happen to me on my second week… except it wasn’t tins, it was the pickle jars,” he said. “And it was afternoon. I spent an hour scrubbing the floor and the customers kept walking on it and spread it everywhere.” He laughed. “I swear I smelled like pickles for the whole day.”

Before he realised it, Arthur was laughing too. “I am glad these are tins then.”

“I’m Elias, by the way.”

“Arthur.”

They quickly shook hands as they were both on the floor.

“So what brought you here to Tesco, Arthur?” Elias asked.

“I’ve just moved to London,” Arthur replied. “And the bills don’t pay themselves, do they?” He had enough social interactions to believe what he was saying made sense to the people of this world.

Elias started to stack back the boxes on the trolley. “Fair enough. Where are you from, then?”

“Bristol.”

Elias looked at him with a frown. “Really? You don’t sound like you’re from Bristol.”

“I, uh… I’ve travelled a lot. I must have lost the accent along the way.” He picked up the last few tins and checked for damage. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“My parents are from Nigeria, but they moved here before I was born… which makes me a Londoner. Born and bred.”

“A real Londoner? That’s hard to find,” Arthur said, fitting the tins on the shelf. He’d heard Merlin make a similar comment with one of his friends, about how a lot of the people currently living in London were not actually born here.

“I know, right? I’m a rare specimen.”

Arthur didn’t realise how fast their joint effort had been until he looked around and there were no more tins on the floor, and everything looked as if nothing had happened. “Thank you for helping me there,” he said.

“Anytime, mate,” Elias said. “I’m still new enough to remember what the first days are like.”

Arthur nodded. “Much appreciated.”

“Gotta go now, I’m on self check-out duty this morning… I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Arthur was glad he ended up crossing paths with Elias more often in that shift. Elias was nice and didn’t mind helping out Arthur when he needed to have something repeated to him. Arthur felt he could ask him things without fearing he would be laughed at; for example, when he shadowed Elias at the self check-outs, he learned more in that one hour than he’d learned in the full formal training the day before.

“Are you in again tomorrow?” Arthur asked at the end of the shift, his backpack on his shoulder.

“Same time same place,” was Elias’s reply, and Arthur almost sighed in relief at the idea that he wouldn’t be alone.

When Merlin came home that evening, he found a scene he’d never seen before – Arthur, in the kitchen, kneeled in front of the oven, intently staring at its content; on the counter, a cutting board and potato peels.

“Are you making dinner?!” Merlin asked, baffled, dropping his backpack on the floor.

“Hey,” Arthur greeted, without looking away from whatever was grabbing his attention. “I am, yes… the chicken. The one we didn’t eat yesterday. Want to see?”

Merlin frowned as he wondered for a moment if he’d stepped into an alternate reality.

“It’s going to be at least ten more minutes,” Arthur added.

Merlin walked closer, unzipping his jacket, to sneak a peek inside the oven. Two chicken breasts were lying miserably on top of a baking tray, completely unseasoned, not even a trace of oil or salt in sight, let alone other spices and herbs. The potato cubes that lay next to them had a similar look to them, cut raw and popped in without any pre-treatment. Everything looked so dry that Merlin could already feel it soak up the moisture in his mouth.

“What do you think?” Arthur asked. He looked up at his friend with a mixture of pride and hopefulness in his eyes, looking for a validation that Merlin didn’t have the heart to deny.

“It looks… very healthy,” Merlin conceded with the best smile he managed to forge. 

Arthur took in the compliment and went back to staring at his lip-smacking recipe.

“Did you have a good day, then?” Merlin asked.

He saw Arthur’s head bob up and down in a nod. “Better than yesterday.”

The chicken ended up being the blandest thing Merlin had in his mouth in literal ages, and definitely not what he had in mind when he talked about roast chicken. He had to draw the line at the potatoes, which were just about on this side of inedible.

Still, he praised Arthur for his attempt and eagerly listened to the story of his day.

*

Arthur was always relieved when Elias had his same shifts. They got along, laughed at the same jokes, eye-rolled at the same annoying customers.

“It’s such a nice day, today,” Elias said one day after their shift. The late autumn sun was shining, low but bright, cutting through the mist. “Are you up to much this afternoon?”

“Uhm, not really, why?” Arthur said, shuddering in his coat.

“Some mates and I are going to play some basketball later, down in Clapham, want to join us?”

Arthur had never been to Clapham or played basketball in his life, his hesitation generating a silence that Elias picked up quickly.

“Seriously mate? You’ve never played basketball, ever?!” he asked in disbelief. “No way, you’re taking the piss.”

Arthur simply shook his head.

Elias sighed. “Right, then you’d better take your arse down to Clapham Common quickly, I’ve got to teach you before my friends arrive.”

And so Arthur learned how to play basketball, and gladly joined Elias and his friends when they met to play. It was nice to have something else to look forward to. To have something new, new friends, people who didn’t know anything of him but still seemed to accept him, and without Merlin’s presence to validate Arthur at all.

No, Elias and his friends liked Arthur for who he was.

Merlin was happy Arthur was doing his own things sometimes now, because that allowed Merlin to do the same. He loved being Merlin again, after so long, and he absolutely loved being with Arthur every moment that he could, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love Emrys too. And Emrys had been put aside for quite a few weeks now, as Merlin cut off all his precious me-time to dedicate it to Arthur.

The first time Merlin went back to the swimming pool after work, after weeks of jumping straight into the Central line to head home as fast as possible, he was so excited he could barely contain it. The smell of chlorine went straight into his heart and had him buzzing and almost jumping around like a kid. He found his swimming buddy waiting for him.

“Honestly, Emrys, I thought you were just going to disappear on me forever!” Justin said, fixing his swimming goggles firmly on his face.

Merlin did the same. “I’ve been swamped, literally.”

“Arthur keeping you busy?”

Merlin heard the undertone of that question. He kind of knew all of his friends believed he and Arthur were dating and he always did everything in his power to discredit that voice. As much as he would have liked not to have to. “It’s not like-“

“Yeah, it’s not like that, I know, I was joking!” Justin laughed. “Shall we do a couple of laps to warm up?”

Merlin nodded, stepping on the platform, the rough anti-slip material scratching his soles. Then, he jumped, grinning with excitement the second his hands broke the surface of the water.

He was excited to meet Arthur’s new friends too.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Arthur asked one evening as they were having dinner.

“I’m on call Friday night… and I think the guys wanted to go to Winter Wonderland at some point, but I haven’t heard anything yet,” Merlin answered, gathering some rice onto the fork. “Why?”

“Uhm, Elias invited us to his family’s restaurant on Saturday… apparently it’s the twentieth anniversary of the opening and they’re having a big party.”

Merlin smiled. “Oh, it was nice of him to invite you,” he said. “Are you sure I’m invited too though?”

“Of course you are,” Arthur said. “He explicitly said to bring the weird flatmate I’ve been mentioning.”

“I’d love to come, then.”

Arthur hadn’t fully realised how much he talked about Merlin to his new friends until Elias pointed that out.

“Finally I get to meet the famous Emrys,” Elias said as the two men shook hands. “Arthur never shuts up about you.”

Merlin grinned, glancing sideways at the king. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

After Elias left to greet other guests, Merlin gave Arthur a nudge as they took a seat at a free table.

“So you never shut up about me, huh?” he teased.

“I have probably mentioned you a couple of times.”

“Mhm, that’s not what he said.”

“He was exaggerating.”

“Was he, now?”

“Shut up, _Emrys_.”

At some point Merlin got to meet all of Arthur’s new friends, the guys he played basketball with, and was honoured to know that they’d all heard about Emrys. Arthur seemed to like that a little less.

The evening flowed among food and chats and music. The two men were enjoying some plantain chips when Elias approached them again, followed by two other people, a curly-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to Elias, hand in hand with a lanky guy with glasses.

“This is that colleague of mine I was telling you about,” Elias said to the woman on his right before redirecting his attention to Arthur. “Guys, this is my sister Grace and her fiancé Bruno.”

After a moment of everyone shaking each other’s hands, Arthur learned that Grace was an architect.

“I work in the Shard,” she said with a kind smile, and Arthur also learned that the dark towers, the skyscrapers, had a name.

“I didn’t know those…” _Menacing towers_. “…buildings had a name,” he said.

“You didn’t?” She seemed baffled, at first, making Arthur fear for a moment that he’d said the wrong thing. One second later, however, her smile was back. “They do have names, most of them! The Shard and the Gherkin are the most famous ones, I reckon, but we also have the Scalpel, and the Walkie-Talkie, the Cheese grater… though some are nicknames, actually…”

Arthur found it odd that someone bothered to name those buildings at all, let alone giving them affectionate nicknames. He was somewhat fond of the towers of his castle, back in Camelot, but it never occurred to him of naming them.

He then learned that her fiancé was a graphic designer, whatever that meant, he would need to google it later. Arthur thought Bruno also had a very particular way of speaking English, a guttural ‘r’ and nasal vowels and a way of connecting the words together, an accent that made Arthur struggle to understand him a bit at times.

“And where are you from?” Arthur asked out of curiosity as he hadn’t heard this specific accent before. He was taken aback when everyone snickered silently, even Merlin.

“Yeah, _Bruno_ ,” Elias echoed, trying to imitate the guttural ‘r’ sound. “Where _are_ you from, with this very neutral accent of yours?”

Grace cackled, affectionately bumping her head against Bruno’s shoulder.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Bruno commented with evident sarcasm. “As usual.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but thankfully Merlin came to the rescue.

“You’re French, right?” the warlock asked.

“French-Senegalese,” Bruno replied. “From _Paris_.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin just in time to see him crack a smile at how the city’s name was pronounced.

“I lived in Paris for a while, when I was younger,” Merlin said. “To study.”

“You went on Erasmus there?” Grace asked. “That’s how Bruno and I met.”

As the three of them continued talking about France and life in Paris, Arthur zoned out, no longer sure of what questions he could have asked without sounding out of this world. His list of things to google kept growing longer and longer. He was actually loving this google tool, it was like having an advisor in his pocket, always ready to answer every single question straight away.

When they left the party, later that night, the rain was pouring down again after a few days of fairly good weather. Merlin opened his umbrella, reminiscing of a time in which a rainfall in mid-December would have turned into snow, and gestured for Arthur to come closer so they could both find shelter.

They laced arms together. Arthur was a bit weirded out, at first, but then figured it helped them get closer and fit under the umbrella to stay dry.

“You didn’t really go to Paris on Erasmus, did you?” Arthur asked as they walked. He’d googled what that was right before leaving the restaurant.

“Uh, no… it was way before the Erasmus program was even invented,” Merlin replied. “But obviously I couldn’t say that.”

“When was it, then?”

“During the _Belle Époque_ … before the Great War. Paris was the heart of the world, back then.” 

Arthur nodded to himself. “Why did you never mention that you left England, at some point?”

“It just never came up.”

They walked in silence for a minute, arm in arm, until the rain seemed to stop just as they were reaching the tube station. They released each other’s arm as Merlin folded up the umbrella.

“I also lived in Florence, briefly, some centuries ago,” Merlin added as they waited for the pedestrian light to turn green.

“Florence? Remind me where it is?”

“Italy.”

The light turned green with an incessant beeping sound.

“What would you have done… if I had come back while you were away?” Arthur asked softly as they crossed. He had reason to believe he wouldn’t have lasted long without Merlin, not in this world, not in any century.

Merlin hesitated, his teeth nervously biting on his lower lip. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I would have done. I’m sorry.”

He looked sad, guilty, even, and Arthur didn’t like it at all. He briefly wished their arms were still linked together so he could have given Merlin’s arm a squeeze.

Instead, he just poked Merlin’s shoulder. “Good thing I came back when you were here, then,” he said, offering a warm smile. He didn’t want Merlin to feel guilty for living his life the way he wanted to.

Merlin quickly the smile. “Good thing indeed.”

Arthur kept thinking about that night for a while, about all the things he’d learned. The following Monday, before his afternoon shift at work, he finally took courage to do something he’d never done before; he jumped on the red line all the way to Bank where, he’d learned, most of the skyscrapers were.

Now that he knew they not only had names, but nicknames too, like old friends, they weren’t so scary anymore.

The area around Bank station was like a scene from a play. The streets were tidy, clean, the people all dressed like one another in blue and black and grey. Arthur made its way among them all the way across the river, to London Bridge station, using both the map panels Merlin had shown him, and another very cool tool he’d recently discovered, a live map on his phone that always signalled his position as well as the map of the whole city, and potentially of every city in the world. With that, he never got lost, and he thought the expeditions back in Camelot would have been much faster and easier if he’d had this back then.

The air was freezing but the sky was a beautiful deep blue, not one cloud in sight after the early morning fog had lifted off the ground. The Shard towered above the river, and Arthur walked closer and closer to it, curious and unafraid. He waited to get under it, exactly at her feet, before taking a deep breath.

Then, he looked up.

It made him a bit dizzy, the idea that he couldn’t see the very tip. But the shape of it was nice, in a way, sharp and geometrical, and the glass panels mirrored the blue of the sky, almost blending into it, almost becoming invisible, and yet standing with pride of being the tallest building in England and beyond.

Somewhere inside of him, he wondered how a structure of glass and metal could be almost charming, in a way.

Arthur smiled to himself while walking back, determined to repeat the experience with some of the other, shorter buildings. As he crossed the river back to the north bank, he found himself turning around, from time to time, to glance at the Shard some more. There was something about it he couldn’t quite define.

At some point, he pulled out his phone and took a picture of it. He’d never felt the need to photograph anything before until now. Perhaps it was some sort of enchantment, he thought.

He resumed his walk. It seemed like the Walkie-Talkie was going to be next.

*

It didn’t happen often that they were off on the same weekday, so today Merlin was determined to make good use of their time.

“It’s only six days to Christmas and it’s a Wednesday, which means central isn’t going to be insane,” Merlin said. “I need to buy some last things, and maybe we could go ice-skating?”

Arthur had been made aware of the Christmas traditions, which included buying presents for other people and decorating a tree. Not any tree, it had to be a very specific one, a pine tree.

“Sounds good,” he said.

Before leaving the house, Merlin grabbed his new grey beanie and pulled it safely down onto his head.

“Is that new?” Arthur asked. “The hat.”

“Yeah, I got it from Asos last week, what do you think?” Merlin raised his brows expectantly, waiting for the king’s judgement.

Arthur liked it, in a way. He noticed how, recently, he was having some strange thoughts on his friend, like right now he thought Merlin looked _cute_ in that beanie hat, when obviously ‘Merlin’ and ‘cute’ were not supposed to be in the same sentence. He blamed it all on the festive atmosphere.

“You look like an idiot,” he said eventually. “As always.”

“Prat.”

They went ice-skating first, as Merlin considered the chances of finding two last minute tickets would be higher in the middle of the day than in the evening. The ice rink at the Natural History Museum was always beautiful but this year, Merlin loved it just a bit more as he got to share it with his king. He grabbed the railing at the edge of the rink to balance himself, while Arthur followed him suit.

“I thought you could skate?” Arthur asked, noticing how his friend wasn’t much better at this than himself.

“Uhm, I only do it once a year. I have to… you know, find my way again,” Merlin said.

He did, soon enough, venturing towards the middle of the rink and gaining some speed. He managed to do a full round while Arthur was still trying to find a balance and was very much not happy about it.

Merlin stopped next to the king and offered his hand. Arthur glanced at the hand and then at his friend’s face with a quizzical look.

“You can hold on to me,” Merlin said simply. “I’ll help you.”

While Arthur’s first instinct was to reply he didn’t need any help, he was also aware of his own lack of abilities in this new sport and his unwillingness to fall down on his arse in front of everyone.

“Or you can get one of the penguins, if you prefer,” Merlin added, nodding at a little girl nearby who was skating while leaning on a plastic penguin for balance.

Arthur took Merlin’s hand.

There was something nice, he thought, in slowly skating hand in hand with Merlin, something that should have been odd and weird and instead it wasn’t at all.

Merlin spent the full hour with a grin from ear to ear, not even pretending this wasn’t dream material for him, just enjoying some time with Arthur’s hand in his, having the king occasionally hold on even tighter and grab his shoulder for balance.

When the hour came to an end and the contact was broken, Merlin grieved it, wishing they could continue holding hands as they walked through Hyde Park to the West End. He casually tried brushing his knuckles against Arthur’s a couple of times, unsure of what he was trying to achieve but wanting to try anyway.

Arthur pretended he didn’t notice. He also pretended he hadn’t thought about it too, though very briefly, because holding hands with Merlin without a good reason would be definitely weird.

They reached Marble Arch soon enough.

“This song?! _Again_?!” Arthur complained while on the escalator down to Selfridges’ food hall, as the same song about wanting one specific person for Christmas came on for the umpteenth time.

“It’s very popular… don’t you like it?” Merlin asked.

“I liked it the first four times!”

However, the best part of the day for Arthur were the Christmas lights decorating every corner of the city. Every building, every street, every tree was sparkling with festive colours, and Arthur couldn’t keep his eyes from wondering in awe from one decoration to the next, from the purple baubles in Oxford street to the golden angels in Regent’s street to the colourful neon lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody hanging over Carnaby. He found them so mesmerising that he even failed to notice the large amount of people around them, something that would usually stress him out and that caused him to stay away from the area for weeks.

Trafalgar square felt almost empty compared to the previous streets, almost entirely dark except for the tree wrapped in blue lights, reflecting on the wet ground. The sky was fully dark by then and a gentle layer of fog was descending on the city. A group of carollers was gathered under the tree, singing _O Holy Night_ , a soft sound that in a way seemed to cancel all of the noise coming from the cars all around it. Arthur leaned over the terrace overlooking the square, his gloved hands resting on top of the stone parapet.

“This is… nice,” he said to Merlin, who was standing next to him.

“I’m glad you like it.” The best thing, for Merlin, was always observing his king, watch his mouth hang open as he saw something that caught his attention.

“The lights are beautiful,” Arthur said, almost dreamingly. “The city is.”

Merlin knew Arthur had a thing for lights, he started suspecting that during bonfire night; it was however the first time that Arthur referred to London as anything different than chaotic or hectic or anything of sorts.

Merlin let his hand edge closer to Arthur’s on the parapet, gradually, almost casually, his eyes focused on the carollers as he took courage to do what he’d wanted to do all afternoon. Taking a deep breath, he rested his bare hand on top of Arthur’s gloved one on the cold stone, his heart hammering in his chest as he awaited and feared a reaction.

He didn’t know if it was the carol, or the tree, or the atmosphere in general, but Arthur tilted his hand slightly to welcome Merlin’s finger in the crook between his thumb and his index, causing a new warmth to spread in Merlin’s stomach. Suddenly, everything disappeared, the cars, the tourists, the odd siren and helicopter; it was just the two of them, hand in hand, and _O Holy Night_ echoing in the square.

“She would have loved this,” Arthur whispered suddenly, breaking the quiet. “The lights, the atmosphere… all this Christmas business.”

Merlin didn’t need any further clarification. Of course Arthur’s mind was drifting off to his Queen. “Yes, she would have,” he said simply.

They listened in silence to a couple more song, neither of them acknowledging their hands joined together, neither of them making any attempt at separating them even when it was time to clap in between exhibitions.

“Are there any other lights we haven’t seen?” Arthur asked at some point.

“The Strand, over there,” Merlin said, nodding towards the left side of the square. “And Covent Garden, if you want. There’s a big tree there too.”

“Let’s go there, then,” Arthur said. He left Merlin’s hand as they started walking, and neither of them mentioned it again.

*

Merlin waited for Arthur to finish his shower before mentioning anything. He waited in front of the closed bedroom door, blocking the entrance, until he saw Arthur leave the bathroom wearing only flip flops and his bathrobe, followed by a cloud of steam.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Merlin said, unable to contain his excitement, as the king approached.

“Now?” Arthur asked, a bit confused. “What is it?”

Without saying anything more, Merlin pushed the bedroom door open and watched as Arthur’s mouth fell agape. The wall above the double bed was decorated with a string of golden fairy lights, sparkling in the dim light and cascading softly over the headboard, giving the bedroom a cosy, almost magical look.

“Do you like it?” Merlin asked. He knew how much his king liked lights.

Arthur pulled himself together. “That’s a bit girly.”

“Girly?”

“Yes, it’s…” he vaguely gestured with his hands looking for a word. “It’s… it’s _pretty_.” He spat out the word as if it was a bad thing, a deep frown crossing his forehead.

“And? Boys can enjoy pretty things too,” Merlin hinted casually. When no answer came, he glanced to his side only to notice how the king didn’t seem convinced at all. “That’s fine, I’ll just take it down,” he said eventually, looking down with disappointment.

As he made a move towards the bed, Arthur’s voice stopped him. “No, it’s okay, it can stay.”

Merlin spun around once again with renewed excitement. “So you like it then?”

“It’s not that I _like_ it,” Arthur said softly, his cheeks coloured in a light shade of red. “I just think it adds more brightness to the room. Good for reading in the evening.”

That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it, but Merlin decided not to tease further anyway, well aware that this was the most recognition he was going to get.

Some time later, they settled in with one of the last Camelot diaries. While they weren’t reading them as frequently as they used to, due to night shifts or social commitments or just tiredness, it was still something both of them enjoyed and looked forward to.

Arthur continued doing the reading even past the catch-up point. Although it would have taken Merlin only a couple of minutes to do the enchantment on himself, Arthur insisted he actually preferred reading the words himself, as a way to feel closer and in a way re-learn some words of his native language.

As Merlin lay back supine with his hands under the pillow, ready to listen, Arthur sat on the bed, snugly under the duvet, glancing up with a smile at the fairy lights above his head. Perhaps he did like them, after all, they made him feel all cosy and warm inside. Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for the good idea, although he pretended not to notice his friend’s joy. 

Arthur cleared his voice, opening the book where they last left it a few nights earlier, only a few pages left before the end.

“ _Dear Arthur_ ,” he started, before turning his attention to Merlin. “Hey, how come you used to address me as ‘my lord’ or ‘Sire’ and now it’s just back to Arthur?” he asked, looking down at his friend lying to his left.

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Arthur decided it wasn’t so important after all. “ _Dear Arthur_ ,” he resumed. “ _It is with deepest regret, from the bottom of my heart, that I must announce to you that-_ “

Suddenly his breath got caught in his throat and he snapped the book closed.

“What?” Merlin asked, concerned about the abrupt interruption.

“It’s, uh… it’s Guinevere. You’re announcing her passing,” Arthur said. His hands were shaking slightly as a chill ran down his spine.

Merlin sat up, equally surprised, wondering how he failed to remember this was coming. “What? Isn’t… don’t we have more books?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, this, uh, this is the last one… Just some rolled up parchments.”

“But no, she… she would have written something herself…”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin believed something was missing. There would have been no reason to announce the Queen’s passing so abruptly, without any build up, without any warning about her declining health, without her having written any words of goodbye. He was sure she did, at some point, somewhere in the back of his mind he seemed to remember there were words from her written before her death.

“There’s nothing else,” Arthur said with defeat, staring at the closed book in his hands. “The last thing we read… she was fine, or you didn’t say…” He stopped, swallowing dry. “I, uh, I don’t feel good.”

Merlin didn’t have time to react as he saw Arthur drop the book on the bed and shoot towards the bathroom, a hand pressed tightly against his mouth. The warlock grabbed the diary, opened it, just to double check they hadn’t skipped anything, he browsed the pages and stroked the centre with a finger to check the integrity of the sewing. Nothing was wrong.

He climbed out of bed too and headed towards the bathroom, where he was met by a pungent smell of vomit and the sight of Arthur sitting on the floor next to the toilet, his elbow on the seat, his hand propping up his head.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded, still pale as a sheet, tiny beads of sweat shining on his forehead. “I wasn’t expecting this. Not so… sudden.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

The king slowly pulled himself on his feet, pressing the flush button. He walked to the sink and leaned on the ceramic, heavily, letting his head sag between his shoulders, as he twisted the tap and waited for the water to run warm. He knew that, rationally, it made no sense, but he felt as if he’d witnessed it all, as if it happened that same night and not fifteen centuries earlier. As if his Gwen had died in his arms, in their bedroom.

In the meantime, Merlin made his way into the living room, where the wooden chest was hidden in the corner next to the sofa. He took out all the books they’d already read, one by one, until only the parchment rolls were left, and then he moved those out of the way too, delicately, looking for something he knew existed.

And there it was, hidden underneath everything, a letter, the one he remembered Gwen writing just a few days before her death. Merlin picked it up, feeling the fragile paper under his fingertips, turning it around to discover the wax seal still intact.

He met an unsteady Arthur in the corridor on his way back to the bedroom.

“Here,” Merlin said, handing him the letter. “It’s Gwen’s goodbye to you.”

Arthur took it with a trembling hand. “It’s sealed.”

“She wrote it for you only.” Merlin didn’t have a vivid memory of the day, but he was sure he was never meant to read it, only to deliver it to its rightful recipient.

“What about the parchment rolls? What did you write in those?” Arthur asked, fearing the answer.

“I don’t remember exactly… it’s what happens after Gwen passed away.”

A part of Arthur appreciated his friend’s attempt at staying vague, but at this point he just needed to know. “It’s Camelot’s fall, isn’t it? How my kingdom… ended.”

Merlin nodded, biting his lip nervously. “Yes. Roughly.”

They’d talked about it before, Merlin had told Arthur everything he remembered about king Alfred’s selfish ruling, his greed, his reckless thirst for power that could not be quenched and that eventually caused the kingdom to fall.

Reading it, page after page, was going to be different.

Arthur took a deep breath before marching past Merlin and into the bedroom, where he picked up the book from the bed and inserted the letter between the last page and the hard cover.

“Do you still want to read?” Merlin asked, ready to take his space on the right side of the bed. Reading the last entries wasn’t going to be easy for anyone but they were going to do it, together, if Arthur wanted to.

However, it quickly became evident that the king had different plans. “I do… I want to read what happened to my kingdom. But I need to do it alone.”

“Alone?” Merlin asked with concern.

“Yes.”

At first, Merlin believed Arthur only wanted to read in silence. He was about to make his way to his own bed, to leave his friend some space, when the king grabbed a throw blanket from the bed and headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Merlin asked.

Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I told you, I need to do this alone. I’ll be on the sofa.”

“I thought you meant…” Merlin walked closer to his friend, hoping to make him change his mind until he saw only resoluteness in his eyes. And grief. “At least stay here? I’ll take the sofa, if you need the space.”

“No, that’s fine… you have work tomorrow morning, I have the afternoon shift… I can have a lie in if I want.”

Arthur was almost in the living room when Merlin called him back again, his hands against the bedroom door. “Arthur, wait… I don’t think you should face this alone.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched up in a sad smile. “I think I should. Good night.”

The living room door, that was always open all the time, was shut after those words, leaving Merlin alone in the dimly lit bedroom. He felt tears pricking his eyes at the sight of the fairy lights he’d put up for Arthur, so that Arthur could have a cosier evening than usual, so that they could fully enjoy one of their last reading sessions, but Merlin just had to screw this up, losing count of the books, forgetting pieces, and Arthur was left to deal with the sudden shock.

Merlin settled on the single bed and grabbed one of his own books, thinking it was a bit early to sleep anyway, but he failed to concentrate. His eyes would scan the page, look at the words without seeing them, get to the end of the sentence realising he had not understood a single thing, his mind flying to Arthur, alone in the living room, facing the stories of his wife’s death and his kingdom’s fall. Soon enough, Merlin put the book back on the nightstand and moved back to the bigger bed. He always slept in the smaller bed, as they’d agreed the day it was delivered, but tonight he wanted to be closer to Arthur, whenever he decided to come back to bed. He couldn’t risk not hearing him, sleeping through his return. Merlin needed to know he was okay, he needed to hear and feel him.

Before switching off the lights, he walked outside the living room for a moment, bringing his ear closer to the door, to listen for any movement or sound. The room was silent until a sniffle pierced his ear and his heart at the same time, making Merlin wish he could go in more than anything else. He stopped himself as he was about to call the king’s name. Arthur had requested to be alone, and Merlin was going to leave him that.

He walked back to the bedroom, turning off the lights, lying on the right half of the double bed that felt emptier and colder than it’d ever been.

Sleep kept eluding him as time passed, as he wondered why Arthur wasn’t back yet. The diary entry was one of the last ones, and the number of parchment rolls could be counted on two hands; Merlin had expected the read to be a fairly intense but short one.

Instead, it was past 2 am when the living room door opened and Arthur walked back into the bedroom, finding a wide awake Merlin lying in the dark, waiting.

“Hey,” Merlin whispered as Arthur lay down next to him without commenting on the bed arrangement.

“What are you doing still awake?” Arthur asked, rolling onto his back, one hand on his stomach and one under the pillow, his head turned towards his friend.

Merlin rolled on his right side so he could see his king in the darkness. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “Are you okay?”

The silence between them felt heavier than a stone.

“No,” Arthur whispered eventually, a knot in his throat making his voice smaller than intended. He tossed again until he was also lying on his side, his position fully mirroring his friend’s. “But I will be.”

Merlin would have given everything in his power to pull the king into a tight hug, soothe his pain.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked instead, seeking Arthur’s eyes in the dark, almost involuntarily shifting until his head was resting on the very edge of the pillow, trying to get as close as Arthur as he could.

The king shook his head against the pillow. “No.” He curled up on himself even more, his knees tucking up into his chest, his eyes fluttering close.

Merlin took it as a sign that it was time for him to move back to his own bed. He grabbed the corner of the duvet, ready to push it back and sit up, when Arthur’s voice came, small and soft and barely a whisper.

“Wait… stay here.”

Merlin settled back in the exact same position that he had a few seconds earlier, glad his presence was of some sort of comfort to his king.

“It says… your entry, it says the reason why you didn’t mention her health issues was because you were too busy taking care of her,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin could remember those days only very vaguely, but took Arthur’s word for it. “Oh,” he simply murmured in acknowledgement.

A moment of silence passed.

“I haven’t read her letter,” Arthur admitted.

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Arthur hesitated. “I couldn’t.”

Merlin decided he didn’t need any further explanation. One of Arthur’s hands was tucked under the pillow, beneath his face, but the other was resting against the mattress near his stomach. Merlin let his own hand inch closer, feeling the soft rustle of the bottom sheet against his palm, until the very tip of his fingers brushed against Arthur’s, in an attempt to make the king feel his presence, feel that he was not alone.

“Merlin?” Arthur called softly, his eyes still closed.

“Mhm?” For a second, Merlin thought he was going to be asked to remove his hand and stay well on his side of the bed, or else go back to his own.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Merlin smiled against the pillow, as his index finger tapped twice on Arthur’s one, right below his nail, before going back to resting fingertip to fingertip. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Merlin half expected and half hoped to find Arthur draped across him the morning after, like it used to happen back when they shared the bed every night. Instead, when the alarm went off, the king was asleep on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow and both hands tucked under it. He opened one eye, his brain awakening just one second to assess whether the alarm was for him. Merlin smiled as he couldn’t help brushing a strand of blond hair away from the king’s eyes.

“Your hair is getting long, you know… you need a trim,” he said sweetly.

Arthur’s eye closed again as he turned his face on the other side. “Shut up,” he said, still more asleep than awake.

Merlin got up confident that Arthur was feeling better.


	8. Come, my darling, homeward bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your support as usual :) I'm leaving you with a Christmassy chapter now, however please be aware that it gets a bit dark at some point, so please read the trigger warnings and stay safe xx  
> I wish you all the happiest holidays and a great start of 2021!  
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> -description of suicide attempt(s)

“I hope you’re excited, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!” Arthur said as he neatly folded his jeans, ready to pack. “Your favourite day.”

Merlin nodded with a smile. In the last few years, he spent the Christmas holidays with Aga and her family, either in London or in Poland once, she’d been nice enough not to leave poor orphan Emrys alone in such a family-driven time of the year.

This year, however, Arthur was here, and they were going to spend Christmas together in Glastonbury.

“Are _you_ excited?” Merlin asked, putting his own pile of clothes in the suitcase. “You haven’t been to Glastonbury since…”

“I know. Since my birthday.”

They exchanged an understanding smile from opposite sides of the bedroom.

The following day, Merlin picked up Arthur after his morning shift, their suitcases already in the car, and they drove west, both men struggling to believe it’d only been a little longer than two months since their last trip there. So many things had changed since.

Merlin thought back of that night, of his plan to spend a calm, early-Autumn weekend in the countryside to read and go for a hike perhaps, how it all had turned upside down and his whole existence with it.

Arthur glanced at the landscape changing out of the window, the urban agglomerate leaving increasingly more space to the green fields, the trees now completely bare against the grey sky. He was happy to leave the city, even just for a couple of days.

“Ah, I knew I would forget something!” Merlin said at that point, distracting his friend from his thoughts.

“What did you forget?”

“The sick bags for you!”

Merlin snickered at his own joke, knowing his nape wasn’t being slapped only because he was driving.

“Hilarious, Merlin, as usual,” Arthur commented ironically.

“If you’re scared, let me know before being sick, yes?” Merlin teased again.

Arthur shot him a look that was worth a dozen slaps. “Shut up.”

They drove between a chat about their afternoon plans and some background music and Arthur dozing off here and there until the Tor came into sight again from afar, still rising tall in the middle of the valley as if nothing had happened at all, as if the Once and Future King hadn’t been brought back right there in that exact spot.

“Can we go there?” Arthur asked, almost shily, nodding with his head towards the tower.

Merlin glanced to his friend at his left and then back to the road. “Now?”

“There’s still an hour before dark.”

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I am.”

Arthur had wanted to go for a while, out of curiosity more than anything else. After Merlin parked the car, more or less in the exact same spot he’d parked it that Friday night, Arthur stood at the entrance of the footpath, his gaze up at the top of the hill.

“It looks different,” he whispered. “In the daylight.”

The hill was steep and silent, only a few people here and there strolling; the winter air was cold enough to make their cheeks redden. Merlin led the way up the path, on the stone steps, his beanie pulled down safely to his forehead and ears, while Arthur followed behind, slowly, taking breaks to look around.

“This is steeper than I remember,” he said, panting for breath. “Did I really run down this path, in the dark?”

“You did,” Merlin replied. “I still wonder how you managed not to break your neck.”

Arthur nodded, pleased with himself. “I am a very skilled athlete after all.”

It took them a few minutes to reach the top of the hill. The sun, barely above the horizon line, painted the clouds in orange and purple, which reflected in the soft mist that covered the whole valley.

Arthur touched the stone of the tower with reverence, explored its hollow entrance, read the plaque hoping to find maybe some mention of himself and his legend, but nothing was there. And yet, he was sure, this was exactly the place where he woke up that night.

“Do you want to sit down a bit? The sky looks amazing,” Merlin suggested, suddenly appearing behind Arthur.

They sat on the grass on the side of the hill, taking in the last of the daylight that blurred softly over the valley.

“You never told me what happened that night,” Merlin said, his knees to his chest, his arms wrapping around them.

Arthur seemed to collect his thoughts before replying. “I don’t… really know, what happened,” he said. He leaned back on his wrists, his gloved hands burying on the damp grass. “I remember us, you and I, in a valley like this, the morning I…”

He still couldn’t say the word.

“…and then I went somewhere else… where everything was quiet, and warm… suddenly I didn’t have a care in the world, I was just there, existing in a way, surrounded by everyone I’ve loved," he continued. "There was no pain, no war, no problem… just peace, and happiness…”

Merlin could hear the longing in his words, the nostalgia.

“…and then at some point there was a noise, a thunder, sort of… and the next thing I know is I’m here… when I opened my eyes again I was just outside the tower.” He stretched his legs in front of him. “I didn’t really realise what happened… I stayed outside in the rain for a while, until I started feeling cold… I’d forgotten what being cold felt like.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, looking over his shoulder towards his friend.

Arthur gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s okay.”

They sat in silence next to one another, the chatter and steps of other visitors gradually fading as the sun set.

After a few minutes, Merlin spoke again, his eyes fixed on the horizon line. “She was born on Christmas Eve.”

“Who?” Arthur asked, pulled out of his stream of thoughts.

“My daughter.”

The king’s jaw dropped open as his heart skipped a beat. “What? Your d-… you said you never had children.”

“She was the only one… and she wasn’t even mine… biologically, I mean. I found her… wrapped up in wool, outside the sisters’ convent… Christmas Eve, 1645.”

Despite the four centuries gone, his memories of that night were as vivid as ever. He remembered the snow, back when it used to snow in England in winter, he remembered finding this new-born baby in the frosty air, wondering where the mother could be, banging loudly at the convent door for somebody to open, realising nobody would come because of the Vigil’s prayers, deciding to take the baby back to his place.

“What was her name?” Arthur asked.

“Mary.”

Arthur seemed taken aback by the answer. “Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s a… common name. I thought you would have named her after your mother... That's what I would have done, if I'd had a daughter.”

Merlin shook his head, the growing darkness of the valley reflecting on his features. “I didn’t feel like she was mine to name… I didn’t even think she was going to survive the night, at first… it was freezing cold, and she was just so tiny, you know?” He opened his hands in front of his face to signal a span of about twenty inches. “And then when she did, I gave her a normal name… I wanted to take her back to the sisters once she’d put on some weight, grown a bit stronger… I thought Mary was the only choice for a girl born on Christmas Eve.”

“But you never took her back.”

Merlin shook his head, a smile making its way onto his face. “That little monkey ended up staying with me for eleven years.”

Arthur shifted closer to Merlin, mirroring his position by hugging his own knees. “What happened after that?”

“She… fell ill… a disease we wouldn’t classify for another two hundred years. Nothing my incorrect medical knowledge could have treated.” Merlin knew, now, there was nothing he could have done back then, when the knowledge of the human body and physiology was completely wrong, the chemistry and technology nowhere near where they should have been to give her a fighting chance. However, he remembered the despair of those weeks, being unable to understand what was wrong with her, trying everything in his power to heal her, every herb, every remedy, every spell, even, watching each attempt fail miserably. Living on for decades, centuries, always wondering what he could have done differently, until Thomas Hodgkin walked the Earth and provided the answer Merlin had been looking for, finally giving his mind peace and closure.

Arthur’s hand, large and warm on his shoulder, pulled him back from the spiral of memories.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, it’s been a long time.”

The sun had disappeared behind the hills, the lights from the town began to switch on.

“Let’s go home,” Merlin said. He got up and offered Arthur a hand.

The king took it, pulling himself on his feet. “You have a box, about Mary, don’t you? In your loft?” he asked. “Will you show me, when we get home?”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

They drove home in silence, each of them lost in his own thoughts. The house was cold, undecorated, dark, the loft even more, but Arthur sat on the wooden floor and waited for Merlin to find the right box and pull it out of the pile.

Arthur expected it to be one of the old-looking ones, but was surprised to see it was actually in plastic.

“I open it, sometimes… more often than the others. I thought it made sense to get a new box,” Merlin said as if he could read Arthur’s mind. “But it’s the first time someone else is here with me.”

“It’s an honour.”

Merlin dragged the box next to Arthur and sat on his heels next to him. His smile grew wider as he pulled out the first thing, a portrait, rolled up but still perfectly conserved thanks to magic. As Merlin unrolled it open, Arthur studied it closely. A man was painted sitting on a chair, it was unmistakably Merlin, a bit older than now and with a thick black beard covering the majority of his face; then, sitting on his right knee, a little girl, not older than seven or eight, with puffy round cheeks and a white bonnet on her head meant to cover her hair. Still, some blond locks fell on the side of her face all the way to her shoulders, clad by a long dark gown that covered her whole figure.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to say. He glanced to his side, to witness Merlin’s reaction, only to find the most loving smile spread across his face. Then more things came out of the box, the silliest, most normal things, a blanket, a dress, a cloth doll, a number of pieces of paper with scribbles and drawings and handprints made with ink, Merlin commenting how smart his daughter was, how he went out of his way to make sure she could read and write and have every opportunity a peasant girl could have in those times, and how sure he was she would have been an academic, had she been born in the right century. Arthur looked and touched everything, with utmost carefulness, scared to damage something, marvelling at the amount of love he could almost physically feel in ever object, in every word.

After a while, Merlin put the lid back on the box, his eyes glowing as he sealed it with magic.

“When she passed… that was the only time I ever tried to…” Merlin started, his voice clouded by a lingering sorrow, his eyes glued to the closed box.

“To?” Arthur prompted. His heart sunk to his stomach when Merlin briefly glanced at him, before returning his eyes to the box.

“No, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

Merlin took a deep breath, his teeth torturing his lower lip. “Kill myself.”

Once again that day, Arthur found himself at loss of words, feeling as if a stone had been dropped on his chest.

“I tried… I actually tried, twice… hanging myself,” Merlin continued, a subtle tremor in his voice. “The first time, the knot broke loose… the second time, the rope snapped… it was my magic, I think… I’m immortal, I’m not supposed to die.”

When he glanced at his king, Merlin found his eyes open wide, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“I’m sorry, I know I… I shouldn’t have… I should have thought of you, of your return,” Merlin added in a whisper, in an attempt to defend his own choices. “But-but I was in so much pain, I just wanted to go with her.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Arthur said promptly. “You don’t need to justify yourself… I understand.” And he did, he truly did, he knew exactly the sense of loss and grief that Merlin went through. He offered his friend a kind smile. “I’m just glad it didn’t work.”

“She wasn’t my destiny… I had to accept that,” Merlin said.

“Maybe she wasn’t your destiny, but it sounds like you were hers… and you fulfilled it perfectly.”

Merlin finally looked up to meet Arthur’s loving gaze. “I like to think so too.”

A minute passed in comfortable silence, Merlin’s hand stroking the edge of the box with reverence.

“I tried too, once... almost,” Arthur whispered at some point, just as the warlock was about to stand up to put the box back.

Merlin’s head turned abruptly, his eyes frantically searching Arthur’s face for an explanation. “What? When?”

“Here… on my first day… when you left to get me clothes…”

Merlin remembered this day, he remembered going through all the worst case scenarios in his head, but none of them contemplated Arthur taking his own life on purpose.

“I went into the kitchen… saw the knives," Arthur continued. "I thought..." He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I thought if I sliced my throat open, I would be gone before you came back.” He pronounced the words quickly, as if getting them all out in one breath would make the truth any less painful.

Merlin didn’t realise he was frozen to the spot until he tried to move, to get closer to Arthur, but couldn’t. His limbs seemed to be detached from his brain, he was only aware of his heartbeat, loud and fast against his ribs.

“What… what stopped you?” he managed to stutter.

“You… I didn’t want you to find me… my body,” Arthur replied. “But mostly, I didn’t want to make a mistake, in cutting… I didn’t want you to find me alive and to have to hold me. Like last time.”

For a moment, Merlin believed he could see it all, right there in front of his eyes, the whole scene, as if it happened for real. He saw himself driving home with the Tesco bags, filled with clothes and hope and excitement, he saw himself calling the king’s name, only to find him lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen, spurts still weakly coming out of his carotid, pale and sweaty and barely alive, not even twelve hours after he came alive again.

The next second, Merlin’s throat clenched, his vision going blurry, as he found himself wondering which version of the facts was true. What if all of this, Arthur being alive, had been a dream? A fantasy Merlin’s brain created as a coping mechanism.

He reached out with a shaking arm towards Arthur, tentatively coming to rest his hand against the king’s neck, below his jawline. The soft skin of Arthur’s neck jumped rhythmically against Merlin’s finger pads, in time with his heartbeat, steady and strong.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, confused.

Merlin shook his head, his arm slowly retreating. “I, uhm… I was… I’m just…”

“Merlin,” Arthur called, his eyes meeting his friend’s. Suddenly he believed he knew what the hand on his neck was for. “Hey, I am here. I am, okay?” He took Merlin’s hand and held it in between his two. “I’m sorry I told you, about that. I shouldn’t have.”

“No! No… I’m glad you did,” Merlin said. The warmth coming from his hand was slowly irradiating up his arm and all the way into his heart. “It’s the type of thing I want to know.”

He didn’t know what he would have done if the other scenario had come true, and he was grateful he never had to know. Arthur dropped his hands, freeing Merlin’s, but the warlock wasn’t yet ready to move on.

“Can I…?” Merlin asked, shyly, spreading his arms slightly to his sides to gesture a hug.

Immediately, Arthur’s hands wrapped around Merlin’s waist, pulling the thinner man into his arms. It was a bit of an awkward position, as they were both sitting down, but with a soft sigh Merlin instantly relaxed into the embrace, leaning his head on the crook of Arthur’s neck, inhaling the clean scent of his jumper. He shut his eyes, focusing only on Arthur’s body, solid and warm in his arms, alive and breathing and brave.

It only lasted a handful of seconds. When they pulled away, as it always happened, Merlin had a hard time removing the smile from his face. Then, he stood up, wincing and complaining of the pins and needles in his legs after sitting for so long in the same position.

As he watched Merlin put the box back, Arthur realised all he himself was going through, all his grief and pain, Merlin had lived too, again and again. Each box in this attic was a person he loved and lost.

“How are you doing this?” Arthur asked softly.

“What?”

“After all you’ve been through, how do you manage… how can you still be so…” Arthur couldn’t find the right word. Loving. Sweet. Good. “Happy,” he said eventually.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Merlin said sadly. “I wasn’t given one… I have to stay here, whether I like it or not.”

“Right.”

“So I try to enjoy it… do something with it, you know.” Merlin pushed the box back into the pile, ensuring nothing would fall over the second he walked away. Then, he faced Arthur with a grin. “Come on, let’s go decorate the tree.”

“You still want to decorate the tree?!” Arthur asked, surprised that the warlock was still in the mood after their heavy conversation.

"It’s still Christmas Eve… I have so many happy memories of this day, not just with Mary.” With those words, Merlin let his eyes travel around all the boxes hidden in the dark, his mind wandering through all the joyful Christmases he’d spent in his life. “And you’re here with me this year, one more reason to celebrate.”

Arthur was almost moved and almost felt the urge to hug Merlin again. Almost. “Okay, then, let’s go,” he said instead.

They spent the rest of the afternoon decorating the tree, with Merlin driving Arthur to madness by putting on _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ on repeat in the background. The warlock chose not to reveal that the very first time he heard that song, his mind flew straight to Arthur.

Once they were done with the tree, they moved to the kitchen to bake some mince pies. The traditional smell of raisin and cinnamon quickly filled the room, so once the oven beeped to signal the time was up, Arthur couldn’t wait to try one.

He waited for Merlin to pull them out of the tray and place them onto a plate, and then waited a few minutes before he could grab one without burning his fingertips off.

“Careful, they’re still really hot inside, it’s the melted sugar in the filling,” Merlin tried to warn, but he finished the sentence too late.

Arthur had already brought one to his mouth giving it a large bite, his teeth sinking effortlessly into the soft pastry. One second later, his eyes were spread wide as he groaned in pain, his pupils quickly scanning the room as to look for a solution. Then, with a hint of shame, he opened his mouth letting the piece of piping hot food drop onto his palm, and then onto the table.

“Told you,” Merlin commented, raising his eyebrows. Arthur just looked away. He waited several more minutes before taking the next bite.

When evening came, frosty and dark, they settled on the sofa with pizza and some more mince pies, as Arthur decided he wanted to watch a Christmas film but let Merlin pick which one.

“I haven’t seen any, just pick your favourite,” Arthur said, resting his feet on the coffee table and wiggling his toes beneath the thick grey socks.

“You saw one,” Merlin said as he inserted the Firestick in the side of the telly. He’d remembered to bring it this time. “ _Love, Actually_. A couple of weeks back.”

“The one with all the couples?”

“Yeah.” Merlin took his seat on the sofa next to his friend, his elbows leaning on his knees as he opened the apps.

“I didn’t know it was a Christmas film.”

“It’s set around Christmas time, which makes it a Christmas film.”

Arthur shrugged. Tired of waiting around, he leaned forward and opened the large pizza carton to grab the first slice. He looked up from the cheesy goodness to watch Merlin select a title.

“ _Home Alone_?” he asked.

“It’s funny. An easy watch… you’ll see,” Merlin said as he grabbed a slice of pizza and lay back, pressing start.

The pizza was gone quickly and the mince pies shortly after. Merlin had seen this film dozens of time, and for him the true entertainment of the night was eyeing Arthur to witness his reactions, mentally cataloguing which scenes made him smile, which ones made him laugh.

“You were right, it was good,” Arthur said once the credits started rolling over. “Can we watch the sequel too?”

“Aren’t you tired? You were up at half four this morning.”

“I’m good, I had a nap in the car.”

Merlin glanced at his phone to check the time. It wasn’t that late but he still felt a bit tired himself, although not tired enough to end the evening now and leave Arthur alone to watch the sequel.

“I’ll warn you, the sequel isn’t as good,” Merlin said eventually.

They made some tea and put on Home Alone 2 – Lost in New York.

It wasn’t long before Merlin started feeling his eyelids grow heavier. He glanced at Arthur only to find him still engrossed in the film, his eyes attentive and focused.

Merlin gathered all his courage and shifted closer to his friend, gently leaning his head on his strong shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

Arthur muttered something affirmative, and Merlin smiled. They didn’t really do this, at home, when they watched some telly together. They would always stay in their own space. Except now, Merlin was a bit sleepy and warm under the fleece blanket and the pull towards Arthur, the instinct to snuggle with him, was almost automatic and growing stronger every second.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s shoulder wasn’t as comfortable as it looked, and Merlin struggled to find the perfect position. When his neck also started to ache, he decided it was time to pull away and lean against the seatback instead.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, a frown on his forehead as he felt the lack of a weight on his shoulder.

Merlin didn’t even believe Arthur would notice. “Uhm, my neck hurts.”

The king sighed, loudly, shaking his head. Then he grabbed one of the sofa cushions and fixed it across his lap, above the blanket. He patted it twice. “Come on.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, then at the cushion, then back at Arthur, but the king’s attention had already been drawn back on the film.

“You sure?” Merlin asked, trying not to let his excitement show too much at the idea of lying _on_ Arthur, rather than only against his shoulder.

“Yes,” was Arthur’s quick reply, a bit annoyed even because he just wanted to watch the film and he kept getting distracted.

Merlin decided he didn’t need to be told one more time. He lay down on his side with his knees tucked up and rested his head on the soft pillow, the velvety cover tickling his cheeks, letting himself be encompassed by the warmth and the comfort of knowing Arthur had allowed him this moment. Merlin could feel the king’s hands joined together, the knuckles poking against his back.

It took some adjusting of cushion and blanket, but once Merlin found the perfect position, he let himself sigh in content, a wide smile spreading on his lips. There was only one thing missing for this to be even more blissful than it already was.

“You could play with my hair,” he suggested, his voice a bit slurred already.

“Now you’re pushing it.” The second those words left his mouth, Arthur glanced down at the soft-looking mop of curls in his lap and reminded himself of how much Merlin had gone through in his life. Maybe, Arthur thought, he could do this one small thing for him, on Christmas Eve.

A few minutes later, Merlin sucked in a breath when Arthur’s fingers landed on his hair, starting a gentle stroking motion across his curls that sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine like an electric shock.

Neither of them said anything.

As much as he would have wanted to keep watching the film and pretend he wasn’t that affected by what was happening on his head, Merlin’s eyes struggled to remain open under the blissful ministrations of Arthur’s hand that mindlessly combed his hair and grazed his scalp in circular patterns, causing the skin on his arms to explode in goosebumps under the jumper. Soon enough Merlin lost track of the movements, no longer able to tell if Arthur was combing or tugging or petting, and all his plans not to enjoy this too blatantly went out of the window. His eyes fluttered closed once and for all as he let himself sink down in the bliss, rocked by the constant shudders that shocked his body all the way to his toes.

Arthur glanced down at his own fingers hidden in the ridiculously soft curls as the corner of his lips twitched up with amusement and a hint of pride. He convinced himself that any other day, this would be weird, but tonight must have been an exception to the rule because touching Merlin’s hair like this did not feel weird at all.

He was enjoying this, in fact.

The magic of Christmas Eve.

He returned his attention to the screen, letting his hands do the work without putting too much effort into it.

Until his thumb mindlessly stroked the soft skin where Merlin’s lobe met his jawline and a whimper resounded in the room, almost hidden by the telly but not quite. Arthur’s hand froze as Merlin’s eyes snapped open, an embarrassed heat suddenly spreading on his cheeks.

His brain started spinning. He had not planned to make any sounds, let alone this needy moany thing that just escaped his lips, now Arthur would feel uncomfortable and Merlin didn’t want that.

He was about to apologise and pull away when Arthur chuckled, the contractions of his belly almost vibrating through the cushion.

“You’re such a disaster, Merlin,” the king commented with amusement. His hand restarted the movement, thought moving away from the ear area to focus on the middle of the head.

Merlin curled up tighter on himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… do that.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to you being weird.”

It didn’t take long for Merlin to relax again, although this time he tried to remain awake and focused on the film. When some time later Arthur’s thumb brushed that spot again, Merlin pressed his lips tightly together to repress any sounds that threatened to come out, and wondered if Arthur had done that on purpose.

As the film came to an end, Merlin had to sat up, leaving the comfort, his scalp still tingling.

“Thanks, uh… for that,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” Arthur said with a warm smile.

Merlin glanced at the time on his phone, realising it was way past midnight. “It’s Christmas, actually.”

“Then merry Christmas, Merlin.”

Later, because it was Christmas, neither of them questioned whether somebody had to sleep on the sofa. Both went in for the bed, each on his own side, Merlin loving the chance to sleep next to Arthur again, Arthur pretending with himself that he hadn’t missed sharing the bed with Merlin, having him there within arm’s reach instead of on the other side of the room.

*

When Merlin blinked his eyes open, it was still dark outside. His body clock would do that sometimes, wake him up at his usual alarm time even though it wasn’t a work day.

The next thing Merlin registered was a warm and solid presence in his arms, pressed against his chest, so close that Merlin’s nose was grazing the soft skin of his nape.

Shit.

He was spooning Arthur.

The realisation sank down on him like a bucket of ice-cold water. He was full-on, properly spooning the king, back to chest, arm around waist, and unlike those morning in which he would wake up with Arthur against him, now it was Merlin’s fault. He was the big spoon. At some point in the night, he’d been the one to roll closer to a sleeping Arthur and press himself against his back.

And, _shit_ , his half-hard dick was lined up exactly against Arthur’s arse cheeks.

He put an inch of distance between their bodies to remove _that_ contact as he started wondering what to do, torn between enjoying the moment, letting present-time Merlin indulge in the absolute bliss that was having Arthur in his arms, or roll away silently, avoiding future-Merlin the embarrassment of having to deal with the uncomfortable situation.

“Merlin.”

Arthur’s sleepy voice brought all of Merlin’s thoughts to a halt. It looked like the decision was going to be moved out of his hands, so he braced himself and waited for the official order to come.

“I can hear you thinking, go back to sleep,” Arthur said instead.

Merlin found himself at complete loss of words.

“Sorry I woke you up,” he whispered, his brain working to understand whether Arthur was perhaps okay with all of this. He waited one more second before deciding the best way forward was asking the question. “Can I stay here?... I’d like to, but only if you want to… or I can-”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

Merlin took it as a green light. While trying to keep his hips at distance, he went back in with his upper body, burying his nose in the king’s blond hair. Arthur’s scent was all Merlin could smell, on his head, on the pillow, on the edge of the duvet near their shoulders. The position itself wasn’t perfect and would realistically lead to lower back pains later on, but Merlin loved it just the same. He fell asleep with a grin on his lips, feeling blessed for this moment of closeness he was freely given.

He was awoken some unquantifiable time later by a constant poking against his shoulder.

“Come on, _rise and shine_ ,” Arthur was saying as Merlin blinked his eyes open.

“Mhm, what,” Merlin mumbled, his eyes adjusting to the light in the room. Arthur was already dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, and Merlin hadn’t heard or felt him get up at all and he had no idea what time it was. He tried to turn on the other side, but Arthur’s hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him to remain on his back.

“No no, no more sleeping,” the king said as the shoulder tapping resumed. “ _Up and at ‘em_.”

“Will you stop it,” Merlin said, his voice still thick with sleep but sounding a little bit more resolute.

Arthur grinned. “Why, is it annoying?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know.”

Merlin groaned, too sleepy to grasp the reference. Realistically he knew he was last just awake a couple of hours earlier at best, when he found himself in the compromising position, and yet he felt like his body had never known rest ever.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes with his wrists. “What time is it?”

“Eight. Ish.”

That pulled him out of the slumber state. “What, eight?! Why did you wake me up?!”

“It’s Christmas morning, and you said there would be presents. I want my presents,” Arthur stated.

“And it couldn’t have waited, I don’t know, another hour?!”

“I’m also starving.”

Merlin groaned, driven by exasperation by this very pratty exchange. “Fine, I’ll come downstairs.”

Arthur smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and suddenly all of Merlin’s annoyance faded away like frost in the sun. He loved seeing his king show enthusiasm about something.

“Just give me a minute, I’ll meet you in the living room,” he added.

Arthur stood up and headed to the door. “Bring the presents!” Then he stomped down the stairs.

Merlin got dressed and freshened up before gathering the presents he got for Arthur, both carefully hidden with magic in the suitcase, or else Arthur would have found them a long time ago. He’d debated long and hard on what to get him as present, because, really, if one really thought about it, almost everything Arthur owned was a present from Merlin, in a way. Still, he wanted the king to get the full Christmas experience.

Merlin trotted downstairs with a present under each arm, and found Arthur sitting on the sofa, eagerly waiting with a steamy cup of tea clasped in his hands.

“I made you coffee,” Arthur said, eyeing the mug on the coffee table before his attention got caught by the two boxes his friend was holding, both carefully wrapped in patterned paper in red and green tones.

“Oh, thank you.” Merlin took a seat on the sofa next to Arthur and laid the presents between them. “This one first,” he said, pointing at the box on the right.

Arthur pulled the package on his lap and removed the golden ribbon on the top, before proceeding to unceremoniously tear the wrapping paper apart. His expression once the content was revealed made Merlin snicker.

“You got me a Christmas jumper?!” Arthur said, more annoyed than disappointed, waving the piece of clothing open in front of his eyes. “It’s hideous!”

“We usually say thank you,” Merlin said, trying to sound offended. The chuckle gave him away. He purposefully picked the ugliest, tackiest jumper he could find – blue as base, with Santa’s face on the upper half and a number of bright-coloured patters on the bottom half and sleeves, which included red-nosed reindeers, snowmen, and overly decorated trees. “I’ve got one too, so we can wear it today.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in this,” Arthur declared, tossing the jumper on the sofa and grabbing the second box. Merlin decided to drop the argument for now, confident he would manage to convince the king later on to attend their Christmas dinner at the pub wearing their ugly jumpers; he focused instead on watching Arthur tear open the second present with the same almost violence, this time to be rewarded with a pleased expression at the brand new shiny headset.

“Where are my presents now?” Merlin asked then, almost as a joke. He was fairly sure Arthur hadn’t bought anything, and he was fine with it.

Arthur seemed to think about it for a second, then grabbed one of the discarded ribbons and placed it on top of his head. “It’s me.”

“You.”

“My return,” Arthur continued, almost theatrically, his arms spread to his sides. “My friendship.”

If Merlin was confused at first, he now found himself smiling. Arthur was indeed the best present he could have got this year, nothing else could have topped it. “Good shout,” he said, softly, meeting his friend’s eyes with his own. “It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.”

Arthur was taken aback by the reaction, but Merlin was too busy gathering the pieces of wrapping paper to notice, before mumbling something about cooking some breakfast.

“No, wait,” Arthur said, claiming back his friend’s attention. “I, uh… I was joking, I… did you really think I hadn’t got anything for you?”

The ribbon on his head fell onto the floor as he bent over to pull out a present from under the sofa, something in the shape of a book, poorly wrapped in plain green paper with too much tape, and without any bows or ribbons to make it look prettier. 

It was Merlin’s turn, now, to be surprised. He’d seen Arthur pack his suitcase and this wasn’t there. He took the present and placed it on top of his knees. “Where did you hide this?”

“I sneaked it in under everything else when you weren’t looking,” Arthur said, a bit smugly. “Just open it.”

Merlin was more careful in the opening, treating the wrapping paper with attention, attentively unsticking the tape strings until the edges of the paper came apart naturally.

“What is…?” Merlin didn’t mask his surprise as the gift revealed itself, one of those filing folders with plastic sleeves in an opaque dark blue cover. “You got me a folder? What-“

His voice hitched in a gasp as he opened the cover and found himself face to face with the last thing he was expecting – a portrait of Gaius. The old man was drawn from his waist up, in full colour, and was looking up at him from the page, clear eyes and loving smile, and Merlin brought a hand to his mouth as tears started welling up in his eyes.

All those distant memories of his mentor, his friend, his father, suddenly had a face to it, after a millennium of being nothing but fog. Merlin brushed his fingers against the clear plastic, touching the portrait with reverence, chuckling softly because there was no way he could have forgotten _that_ haircut of all things. He didn’t realise he was crying until a drop of water splashed on the plastic.

“It’s not just my work, I, uhm…” Arthur was chatting away in the background, almost uncertain. “I did the base drawings, clearly, but Bruno helped me making them a little less wonky… and he coloured them, digitally… so you have to thank him too…”

Merlin wasn’t really listening. He turned the page and got lost in the likings of Gwaine, another face that he hadn’t seen in so long, a dear friend he never really mourned the way he should have, because Gwaine died at the same time as Arthur and there was only so much grief a heart could take. Merlin attempted to wipe away his tears on his sleeve, but new ones kept coming, and the knot in his throat tightened more and more every second. The expression on the portrait was perfect, he thought. If he was only allowed to remember his friend in one way, he wanted it to be this one, this cheeky grin and playful eyes that used to bring to much joy and laughter to his younger days.

A smile made its way on Merlin’s face too as he kept turning the pages, collecting pieces of memories as he met his old friends, his first friends, all of them were there, Percival, Leon, Elyan, Lancelot. Gwen was last, drawn the way Arthur would remember her, young and beautiful and with the innocence of a Queen who was still to experience the real burden of the crown. Merlin stroked her hair with his index finger. Since Arthur came back, she went back to being his wife in their conversations, but as Merlin stared into her dark brown eyes he remembered how close they really were, as Queen and Court Sorcerer, and how for forty years of his life she was the closest friend he had. He remembered the nights spent talking, crafting laws and military tactics, and then the private meals just the two of them to chat gossip and normal life, year after year leading the kingdom together, side by side, even after she remarried, Merlin was always her number one confidante, and she his. Then, as Gwen drew her last breath, Merlin lay next to her, old and wrinkly, his head against hers.

“I wish I could have done more… I tried to draw your mother too, but… too many details I couldn’t recall,” he heard Arthur say.

Merlin closed the folder, his cheeks streaked with tears no matter how many times he tried to wipe them away. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, his voice choked and quivery, as he looked up at Arthur and saw a note of worry on his face.

At those words, the king’s features relaxed into a smile. “So you like it?”

“You’ve given me back something I thought I lost forever,” Merlin said with a sniffle. “It’s the best gift I could have asked for.”

“Wait, didn’t you say _I_ was the best gift?” Arthur joked, and Merlin burst into a liberating laugh. Placing the folder on the sofa, he shifted closer and threw his arms around Arthur’s neck, burying his face in the king’s shoulder.

Arthur sighed, patting his friend’s back twice. “Did we skip straight to the hugging? You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

Merlin pulled back with a sniffle and confused look on his face. “The best part?”

“Flip the folder.”

Merlin grabbed the folder again and did as he was told, opening it from the end. He was met with a number of handwritten pages, blue ink on white paper. “What is this?” he asked, his eye scanning the words to try to understand what he was looking at.

“It’s the story of how we met.”

Merlin’s head snapped up. “The what? You wrote this?”

“I did… I believed you would need some refreshing on it too,” Arthur said softly.

“Your father made me your manservant… during a dinner,” Merlin said. “Isn’t that how we met?”

When Arthur shook his head, the warlock felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment and guilt, and he lowered his gaze. “Oh,” he murmured softly.

A poke against his ribs made him look up again. “That’s why I wrote it.”

Arthur’s words were understanding, and judgement free, and his lips were curled up in the softest smile, and Merlin realised there and then how irrevocably in love he was with the man in front of him. He fought the instinct to grab that pretty face and pull it in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” he said instead with a nod.

“Do you want to read it now?”

After glancing down at the page one last time, Merlin handed the open folder to Arthur in a silent request that the king was happy to accept.

“You want me to read it to you?” Arthur asked.

Merlin loved it when Arthur read to him, he loved the whole moment and he loved hearing how Arthur’s voice reacted to the page, the soft inclinations, the surprise, the emotions that spilled over.

“You can’t expect me to read it myself, it looks like you wrote it with your feet,” Merlin said instead.

He was hit with the folder on the top of his head.

“My handwriting is perfectly legible,” Arthur protested. “You’re just too big an idiot to understand it.”

Merlin side eyed him. “Sure.”

Arthur groaned at first, shaking his head, but then proceeded to read, while Merlin sat back and listened to the story, delicately chewing on his own nails in excitement and curiosity.

“I can’t believe you threw me in jail for that!” he commented at some point.

“You called me an arse!”

“You were one!”

“Still, you disrespected your prince.”

Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur resumed the reading.

_“And how long have you trained to be a prat, my lord?”_

At that, Merlin burst into a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Merlin, more disrespectful behaviour,” Arthur said, although his mouth was twitching up too in amusement.

“I was so sassy!”

“You were an idiot. You still are.”

“A sassy one.”

The next bit, Arthur read all the way to the end.

“How do you know I used magic?” Merlin asked.

“You told me. Before I…”

That word still wouldn’t come out.

“Oh.”

“Did you remember any of this?”

Merlin shook his head apologetically. “Not really… just some flashes here and there.” He wished he could remember all of it, his own feelings the first time he saw his king, without knowing who he was, he wished he could remember all of their shared time together, every minute of it.

Instead, all he had left were distant moments that felt more like a dream than anything else. Those, and whatever Arthur was kind enough to remind him.

“Thank you for writing it,” he added softly. “It means a lot.”

Arthur closed up the folder and stood up, leaving it on the sofa. “You can repay me by cooking my breakfast,” he said with a grin, nodding towards the kitchen.

The whole day felt straight out of a dream. Merlin ended up convincing Arthur to wear his Christmas jumper to go out.

“I am not wearing that thing Merlin, that’s not happening,” Arthur said resolutely.

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Just this time, because it’s Christmas?”

Arthur sighed at Merlin’s pleading eyes that used to have no effect on him at all and now all of a sudden were making him feel a bit warm inside. It really was Christmas. “Fine, but only because it’s Christmas.”

The dinner was exactly what they hoped it would be and the walk on the fields that preceded it was even better. Merlin took so many photos that day, like every day, that he was starting to wonder if he was going to have to pay for storage extension on the cloud at some point. Arthur, not unsurprisingly, didn’t mind being photographed; he seemed to rather enjoy it, in fact, and Merlin played that to his own advantage.

“Hey, uh,” Arthur started tentatively while they sat in the pub for their dinner. “Those two guys, behind you, they… uh, they just kissed. On the mouth.”

Merlin felt his cheeks warm up. The topic hadn’t come up yet, not explicitly anyway. “They’re probably a couple,” he replied casually.

Arthur nodded, his eyes fixed on them until Merlin told him to stop staring.

“So, uh, is this a real thing now?” the king asked. “Men kissing?” He’d seen something like this in some of the shows he’d been watching on Netflix, but he never knew whether things happening on the telly were real or not.

“It is… a thing, yes,” Merlin confirmed, his heart hammering in his chest. This was the perfect chance to come out himself, to tell Arthur he liked men too, as well as women.

However, after a quick “oh, okay, cool”, Arthur changed topic and asked the warlock whether he was getting beer or wine to drink. Merlin silently sighed in relief as he decided there would be other occasions.

When night came, there were more mince pies and some more wine and Ron Howard’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and so much pure joy that Merlin didn’t know what to do with it.

“You’re reading it again?” Arthur asked as he entered the bedroom and found his friend already settled under the duvet with the folder open in his hands.

“It’s really well-written, you know?” Merlin said, looking up and meeting the king’s smug look. “Not the handwriting, _prat_ , I mean what you wrote and the way you wrote it… it’s very vivid. Compelling.”

“Really? Is it?” Arthur asked, his interest suddenly caught by his own feet, unable to hold his friend’s gaze.

If Merlin didn’t know better, he would say the king was humbled by the compliment. “I’ve read my fair share of literature in my years and this is good writing. Well done.”

“Oh, thanks… I was always told my speeches were the best in all kingdoms,” Arthur said, back to his usual proud self, as he settled on his side of the bed.

“Nobody said that. Ever.”

“I’m sure they thought that.”

While Arthur fluffed his pillow up behind his back and opened a game on his phone, Merlin brought his attention back to the story, reliving their first meeting through his king’s eyes. “How do you remember every detail?” he asked after a minute. “It’s been a while for you too.”

“I have a good memory,” Arthur replied, his eyes glued to the phone.

“No but seriously, there’s a lot of detail in here.”

“I just… Let’s just say that this particular event stuck with me. So I remember it well.”

Merlin’s lips stretched into a pleased grin. “I made an impression, didn’t I?” he said, nudging his friend’s elbow.

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t forget me if you tried.”

“Merlin.”

“My utter sassiness managed to-“

“Shut. Up.”

Merlin did, but the grin remained. 

When the time came to switch off the lights, Arthur plugged in his phone and shifted down on the mattress to lie down.

“Try to stay on your side tonight, yes?” he warned. “Last night you were constantly all over me.”

“You could have pushed me away,” Merlin countered immediately as the memory of how the two of them woke up the previous morning, cuddled up together, made him feel all warm inside. The light in the room was too dim to tell for sure but Arthur’s cheeks looked a bit more flushed than usual. “Why didn’t you?” Merlin probed as he lay down on his side of the bed, knees bent up, the tiniest hint of hope making its way into his heart.

Arthur only shrugged. “It was Christmas.”

“It’s still Christmas,” Merlin said, unsure of what he was trying to achieve.

Arthur frowned. “Is it?”

“Uhm, yes.” Merlin wasn’t actually sure whether it was past midnight or not, and that was entirely not the point anyway. Given that Arthur wasn’t double checking the time, Merlin took a deep breath as if oxygen was courage and pronounced his request, ending up speaking at the same time as Arthur.

“You could spoon me.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll-“

Silence fell as both heads snapped towards the middle of the bed to stare at each other wide eyed.

“What?”

“What?”

“Did you just ask me to _spoon_ _you_?” Arthur uttered the last words with disbelief and amusement, while Merlin wished the ground would swallow him whole.

“N-no, I… I said… uhm…” As his ears burned with embarrassment, the warlock tried to think of any other word that sounded like spoon but his brain failed miserably. It only got worse when Arthur started snickering, shaking his head.

“Honestly, Merlin, what do I need to do with you?”

The king reached on the nightstand to switch off the light, sighing softly, as the room plummeted into darkness, and Merlin was at least glad that his mortification for not keeping his own mouth shut was no longer visible to the world.

Both men lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered. “I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just… I mean, this morning, you… we were…”

“Merlin.”

“Shut up?” He never thought he would admit it, but he couldn’t wait to hear the king pronounce those two words so that this cringey conversation could come to an end without any further rambling.

However, the two words that came next weren’t quite what expected.

“Come here.”

For a moment, Merlin remained frozen in his position, on his back, wondering if he’d fallen asleep already and this was nothing but a dream. “What?”

“I said, come here.”

“For real?”

“Yes, before I change my mind,” Arthur repeated with impatience.

When Merlin finally decided to look, he found his friend already turned on one side, one arm stretched out in a welcoming gesture. Merlin crawled closer, smiling with excitement, until his back was lined up against Arthur’s chest and the king gently draped an arm across his waist.

Then, everything was perfect. Merlin sighed, too loudly even, as he felt his king’s whole body pressed up against his own, his soft breath against the back of his head. Everything was beautiful, and warm, and he felt as if his insides were melting from happiness. He covered Arthur’s arm with his own, tempted to join hands but deciding against it, too scared that any misplaced move could break the moment.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” Arthur said. Perhaps it was his words, resolute but soft, or perhaps his mouth moving so very close to Merlin’s head, tickling his hair and nape, but the warlock's whole body was rocked by a shudder. He wondered if Arthur noticed.

“I won’t.”

“Or I’ll make dinner for a month, and you’ll try each and every one of my recipes.”

Arthur’s cooking skills were absolutely appalling, and Merlin chuckled softly at the threat, wiggling as to press himself into his friend even more.

For a few seconds, silence fell again.

“This is nice,” Merlin commented, more to himself than else.

Arthur couldn’t repress a smile. His nose was buried in his friend’s curly hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and residual hint of pub carpet, and he was holding his body close like a most precious thing. For a moment, he felt the instinct to tangle their legs together too, but then decided their current embrace was enough by itself.

This was nice, indeed. Not a tiny bit weird. It was still Christmas, after all.

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

Merlin fought with all himself to stay awake as long as possible, to not miss anything of this precious moment that would be gone in the morning. He registered the weight of Arthur’s arm on his waist, the tip of his nose right above his nape, his large shoulders that made Merlin feel _contained_ and content.

Soon the pressure on his back and the warmth that came with it won over his willpower, and Merlin succumbed to sleep.

As Merlin predicted, the spell was broken at some point in the night, leading them to wake up close but not tangled together.

They never mentioned it again, not during breakfast, not during the journey back to London, not even the following night as they lay down each in his own bed, waving goodnight from afar. Merlin was happy anyway that they had a moment at all, even if it would remain isolated.

*

Arthur learned that people these days celebrated the end of one calendar year and the beginning of the next one, and that there would be fireworks, which made him quite excited.

One of Merlin’s friend-of-a-friend had a flat near the river which apparently guaranteed a nice view on the show, so they were spending the night there with some music and wine and the odd board game.

“I want to improve my singing,” Aga declared as they sat in a circle with a few other people going through new year’s resolutions. “Before the end of next year, I want to sing in front of people.”

“2019 is the year I get promoted to _senior_ financial advisor,” Mel said next.

“Deliveroo only once a week,” Justin said. “Or maybe twice, if I have a promo code.”

Everyone chuckled. Someone else said something about learning Spanish, and then it was Arthur’s turn.

“I, uhm, want to learn what my purpose in this life is,” he said. In his mind it sounded deep and relatable, but everyone, including Merlin, suddenly looked confused, except for one guy in the corner, who had been lowkey introduced as Aga’s ‘friend with benefits’, whatever that meant. Arthur couldn’t remember is name but the guy raised his glass of wine muttering a deep ‘cheers, mate’. 

“And I want to join the gym,” Arthur added quickly to reassure the group, who seemed to smile and relax.

“My resolution is to read more books. At least one per month,” Merlin stated next, in a hurry to take the focus away from his friend.

Later on, as midnight approached and the fireworks were about to start, Merlin nudged Arthur.

“Resolutions are supposed to be practical things,” Merlin whispered to his friend’s year as the party attendees started putting on their coats to go down on the street.

“You could have prepped me better!” Arthur retorted.

The countdown to midnight was magical and exciting, as it was every year, but this time Merlin felt it even more special as Arthur was by his side. They counted shoulder to shoulder, squeezed in on the path along the river together with the rest of the group and a considerable number of strangers. When midnight came, the fireworks started with a boom, suddenly exploding in the night sky above their heads. They were partially covered by the buildings, but the show was breath-taking enough to be enjoyed anyway.

Everyone started hugging and cheering, distracting them from the show for a few minutes, until they found themselves shoulder to shoulder once again staring at the fireworks.

“No hug?” Merlin asked tentatively. He’d hugged literally everyone, including people he’d only met a couple of hours earlier, but not Arthur.

The king glanced at his side, his lips curling up in a soft smile. “Happy New Year, Emrys.”

Merlin took that as a no, no hug. “Happy New Year, Arthur.”

Just as he was about to focus his full attention on the display, he felt Arthur’s hand grab his own. Neither of them was wearing gloves so it was skin on skin, a contact that sent a buzz of electricity to Merlin’s brain. He squeezed the king’s hand back, his thumb starting a mindless stroking motion as their noses returned pointing to the celebrations in the sky.


	9. Show yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you everyone for your support! We seem to have had a rocky start to 2021 so I hope you're all hanging in there xx  
> This chapter is also quite long but we're finally reaching a turning point, and things are evolving. I hope you enjoy! :)

Arthur had learned that the point of making new year’s resolutions was to then follow up with them. Therefore, he decided to honour his own wish and join the gym. He wasn’t really sure what he was getting himself into, at first, and for sure he was absolutely not prepared for the monthly price he had to pay for all-day access, but he decided he was up for the challenge. He probably had a fight to train for, after all.

After a quick induction session, Arthur received his workout schedule and was ready to dive deep into it. His first training was all about the upper body, his favourite part to focus on, and he spent a good couple of hours jumping from a machine to the other, playing with the weights and pushing himself to the very limit. He felt great – the blood rushing through his veins, the muscles straining, the sweat dripping town his neck. He felt invincible.

The next day, he felt a little less so.

“I take it your first day at the gym was a success?” Elias asked during their shift, snickering at the sight of Arthur struggling to raise his arms above his head.

“Yeah, uhm, it was good!” Arthur replied. They were stocking the cereal aisle and he’d purposefully started from the bottom shelves because his shoulders, upper arms and torso were so sore he winced in pain at every little movement. He hadn’t been in this much pain after physical exercise since the battlefield.

“Sore?”

“You have no idea,” Arthur admitted.

Elias’s snicker turned into a full-blown laughter. “Do you need help with the top shelves?”

“ _Please_ , yes.”

Later that evening, Merlin too seemed to find the situation hilarious.

“You should take a hot bath, that should make it a bit better,” the warlock offered as they had dinner.

“I’ve had one already, only worked while I was in it,” Arthur said.

“Don’t worry, it will pass, I bet you’ll feel better already tomorrow.”

“Yes, Merlin, I know it will pass,” Arthur countered. “It’s just annoying.” The king seemed to have a think on it while chewing on a bite of baked salmon. “Maybe I should get a massage.”

Merlin’s ears perked up at those words as his eyes snapped up from the plate. “I can give you a massage,” he blurted out before his mouth fully connected to his brain.

He received the usual baffled look from the king. “You?”

“Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“I don’t want a massage from _you_ , Merlin,” Arthur stated, his mouth tilted up in a grimace.

“Why not? I’m quite good at it,” Merlin said in his own defence and hoping to convince his friend.

“If you’re as good at it as you are at everything else, I don’t want you anywhere near my muscles,” Arthur said dismissively. “Plus, that would be weird.”

Contrary to his own will, Arthur spent the rest of the dinner staring at Merlin’s hands, his wide palm and lean, long fingers with meticulously trimmed nails. Arthur watched the way they grabbed the cutlery, the way the tip of the index finger became white with pressure against the knife as the warlock cut a piece of asparagus. Although Arthur firmly believed what he said earlier, that a massage from Merlin would be weird, now he couldn’t help imagining what it would have been like, saying yes instead. Lying down on his stomach on top of the bed, or sofa, and have those hands work on his sore muscles, pressing and kneading and circling until all the knots came loose.

Eventually, he decided the pain was simply playing a trick on his mind.

*

The gym was okay, after all. He enjoyed going and tracking his progress and see his weight limit increase gradually session after session, it made him happy in a way.

“Are you going to be shredded soon then?” Elias joked as they waited for their pints one evening after work.

“I want to work on my strength mainly,” Arthur said. “Definition isn’t my main goal.”

Elias shot him an amused look. “Not planning on creating that Tinder account just in time for Valentine’s day?”

Arthur had learned what both of those were, an app to quickly meet people to date or bed, and a day to celebrate romantic love, respectively. “Ah, no… I’m not ready to date. Not even for one night.” He’d told Elias, at some point, about his marriage with Gwen, and crafted a clever story with Merlin’s help that best represented his feelings and quickly became the official version. According to the story, both of them were injured in a car crash – Gwen died, Arthur was only dead for a couple of minutes before he was successfully resuscitated by paramedics.

“Don’t you ever miss it… not even a little bit?” Elias asked. “Dating, sex…”

“Not really, not at the moment,” Arthur replied. If he had to be fully honest, he hadn’t had any type of _urges_ since he came back, not even occasionally, in the shower, to relieve the stress of the working day. He wasn’t too concerned about it though, he simply wasn’t in the right mindset, and his body followed.

As the bartender quickly placed the pints on the wooden counter, Elias’s smile softened. “To muscle strength then,” he said, grabbing his glass. “Cheers.”

Arthur clinked the glass with his own. “Cheers.”

They sat at a free table across from one another.

“What about you? …How was your date with Lisa the other day?” Arthur asked.

“Eh, it was okay.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Nah, I don’t think so… we had fun, but we didn’t really click, you know?” Elias said, rotating his glass between his hands. “She wasn’t the one.”

Arthur smiled at his friend’s quest to find true love. He looked like a tough guy on the outside but it was all a shell to hide a gentle soul. They weren’t that dissimilar, in that sense, perhaps that was why they became good friends.

“But Valentine’s day is still a couple of weeks away, you know, plenty of time,” Elias added. “And I matched with Florina yesterday, we have a good banter going on. I already got her number.”

“Oh?” Arthur raised his eyebrows in interest.

“And, mate, she’s _hot_ , okay?”

This time it was Arthur’s turn to snicker. “When are you meeting her?”

“Probably this weekend, I think.”

“Do keep me posted.”

“I will.”

They both took a sip of their beers.

“But ladies aside, my biggest news this week is that I signed up to do some volunteering,” Elias added.

“Volunteering? What’s that?” Arthur asked. When he met Elias’s puzzled look, he realised he was supposed to have this piece of information. “Uhm, I mean, what… volunteering to do what?” he tried again, hoping this would make more sense.

“Oh, just at the Youth Centre down in Clapham… chatting to kids who are going through a hard time,” Elias explained. He rolled the glass and watched the beer spin with it. “It was one of my new year’s resolutions… finding something meaningful to do. Something inspiring, you know?”

Arthur nodded. “What, stacking shelves isn’t doing it for you anymore?” he joked.

Elias brought his right hand to rest above his heart. “You know Tesco always owns my heart and soul,” he said solemnly, and they laughed about it.

Something, however, stuck with Arthur long after than conversation, the very idea that he could do something meaningful with this piece of life he was given before fulfilling his destiny, before going back where he truly belonged.

That night, slumping under the duvet with his head sunk in the pillow, he took his phone and started googling volunteering opportunities in London, just to see what was out there, if anyone could have needed his help after all.

When Merlin walked into the bedroom, he immediately noticed his friend’s expression, focused and pensive, his eyebrows drawn together, nothing like the usual vague, bored face he pulled while playing random games on his phone.

“What are you up to?” Merlin asked as he headed towards his own bed, holding his latest book in his hands.

Arthur looked up from the screen. “Nothing much, just looking up volunteering opportunities.”

“Volunteering?” Merlin wasn’t sure he’d heard it right.

“Yeah… Elias is doing it. I thought I could give it a try, I have a lot of free time after all,” Arthur explained.

Merlin threw the book on his bed before walking to the bigger one, crawling on it until he was kneeling next to Arthur, close enough that he could see the phone screen.

“What do you think?” Arthur asked, glancing up at his friend towering at his left, rotating his phone slightly so that Merlin could see it better.

“This one looks interesting… it’s a one-off, to start with,” Merlin said, pointing at the link about a clean-up of the Thames banks in East London. “We could go together.”

Arthur clicked on it, his eyes quickly scanning the whole page. “It’s this Sunday… shall I sign us up?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

They exchanged a smile.

As it turned out, the act of picking up litter from a river bank was not particularly pleasant in itself, it was actually rather dirty and muddy especially given the foggy weather, however Arthur enjoyed feeling as if he was contributing to this world a tiny bit and he was left wanting more. He spent some time during the morning speaking to other people, men and women who dedicated a lot of their time to volunteering in London, he gathered their advice and recommendations, and a few days later he showed up at an after school club in Acton.

“I was referred here by Mrs Hatton, she said you’re urgently looking for new volunteers,” Arthur said to the lady he was told was in charge of the place. He handed her a printed copy of his CV.

“Oh, yes, you’re Arthur, she told me about you,” the young woman said. “A lot of our volunteers didn’t renew their interest for the spring term, so we’re a bit short staffed at the moment.” She scanned the papers in her hands before looking back up at Arthur. “You don’t have any qualification as teacher?”

“No, I was told it wasn’t a requirement.”

“It’s okay, plus I see you’ve worked with children before!” she said, suddenly beaming. “Teaching English in Azerbaijan, that must have been exciting.”

He cracked a smile. “Yes, it was, uh… quite the adventure.”

She handed him back the CV copy. “All you need to do is apply on our portal, we’ll conduct some background checks to make sure you don’t have any criminal record, and then you can start.”

“I’ll do that, then… great!”

“The only thing we ask is that you’re committed,” the woman added. “You’re signing up until the end of spring term, so less than three months really, but we’d like you to stay until the end of the school year in July… for the kids, to build that relationship.”

In the spur of the moment Arthur nodded enthusiastically. That same evening, as he sat on the sofa next to Merlin with the warlock’s borrowed laptop on his knees, he felt a little less secure.

“You’re not paid to do this, you should only do it if you really want to,” Merlin said softly.

“I do, I… I loved training my knights, being that person they look up to,” Arthur said. “I think I’d enjoy volunteering here.” His mind quickly and unexpectedly flicked to Mordred. Before the story ended the way it did, Arthur truly enjoyed mentoring him.

“It’s not quite the same, working with children and with adults,” Merlin pointed out.

“I know that, but I still want to give this a try.”

“Then what is your concern?”

Arthur sighed. “Well, I might or might not be here in July. Or in April, for that matter.”

As it happened every single time the topic was touched, Merlin’s stomach twisted on itself. He looked down at his own hands joined in his lap. “Don’t think about that,” he said almost in a whisper. “Just… just enjoy the time you have, however long it lasts."

“You’re right… I have to be here anyway, I might as well occupy the time with something useful.”

He clicked on submit application.

When he first started, he was a bit tentative in everything, as he quickly discovered children these days were a lot different than those he used to remember, they were smarter and knew so many things about technology that Arthur had barely begun to grasp.

On his first day he was paired up with a trained educator to think of activities to entertain kids of different age ranges, from pre-school all the way up to early teens.

“You must be Arthur, hi,” the woman said. She was, hands down, a very beautiful woman, Arthur thought to himself when he first set eyes on her. Gorgeous shiny red hair, bright green eyes, a sprinkle of freckles all over her nose and cheeks. “I’m Aisling,” she said. “Thank you for registering to volunteer with us, we always need support with the kids.”

“Nice to meet you, Ashley,” Arthur said, shaking her hand.

“It’s Aisling,” she corrected him with a smile. “Not Ashley.”

“Oh, sorry, I misunderstood.”

“No worries! A lot of people get it wrong,” she said. "Irish names can be a bit tricky." 

“You’re Irish, then?”

“From Cork.”

Arthur pretended he knew exactly where Cork was and felt relieved he at least knew it was in Ireland.

Aisling was very competent in whatever she was doing and was always happy to share the workload with Arthur and get his feet wet. Arthur, from his side, took all the learning opportunities he could get. While at first it was more about himself, about the challenges he took, soon Arthur started actively enjoying playing with the kids, whether it was a game of some sport outside or aerobics or whatever other activity he and Aisling came up with. The kids were quick to warm up to him too.

“I can’t believe you’re not a teacher,” Aisling commented one day. “You’re a natural at this.”

Arthur just shrugged. “I’m really enjoying it too.”

It only confirmed his feeling that he really was excellent at everything he put his mind to.

*

Merlin was walking towards the canteen when he heard Aga approach him from behind.

“So, Emrys,” she said giving him a nudge. “Valentine’s day is two days away… any plans?”

“Uhm, not really, no,” he replied absent-mindedly. He was about to ask her the same question when she grabbed his elbow and forced him to stop.

As he turned to face her, he was met with her mischievous grin.

“Can I set you up?” she asked wiggling her eyebrows.

Merlin frowned. “Set me up?”

“Yes!”

“Uhm, I don’t…”

“Wait,” Aga said, raising a finger to shush him. “Before you dismiss me, let me tell you something more about her… her name’s Kasia, we were in school together, she recently moved to London and she doesn’t really know that many people… so, you know, you could show her around. Take her somewhere nice.”

“Aga…”

“She’s really sweet, and smart, she currently works as business analyst but she’s looking to do a PhD in data science.”

“I don’t-“

“And! She’s definitely your type of girl.”

At that, Merlin raised an eyebrow and Aga decided she finally got his interest. “You know, she’s a brunette… green eyes… a bit taller than me, but still shorter than you…” she continued, tapping on her own fingers as she listed the qualities. Then she raised on her toes so she could whisper to his ear. “Tiny boobs.”

The slightest hint of a blush spread across Merlin’s cheeks.

“Tiny and perky,” Aga clarified as if the extra adjective was the cherry on top, her voice now back to its normal volume. “What do you think?”

“I think maybe you should go on a date with her,” Merlin said.

“Nah, she’s straight. I’m already taking her out on Galentine’s,” Aga said dismissively. “Just think about it, okay? You can tell me later.”

Merlin sighed. “Okay, sure.”

“I have to go now, but promise me you’ll think about it,” she added after a quick glance at her pager.

“Yes, I promise.”

“For _real_.”

“For real.” As he queued for his meal, Merlin did think about it for a full three seconds before deciding he wasn’t interested.

He met Aga later that evening as they clocked out after their shift.

“What should I tell Kasia then?” Aga asked as the cold winter air welcomed them outside the hospital.

“I, uhm…” Merlin started, nervously biting on his lower lip and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on!” Aga pouted.

“Don’t get me wrong, she sounds lovely! It’s me… I’m not really in the mindset of dating anyone, at the moment,” he explained. His words were nothing but the truth; although he was officially single, his heart wasn’t available to anyone. “I could join you on Galentine’s day, though. I’d love to meet her, as friends.”

Aga let out a heavy sigh that condensed in a cloud in front of her mouth. “Is this… about Arthur?” she asked softly.

After a second on debating how to answer, Merlin found himself nodding, quickly but almost shily, his chin barely moving at all. 

“Let’s… have a walk,” she suggested. “Do you have time?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder making small talk all the way to St. Paul’s. When Aga gestured to a free bench, Merlin sat next to her, the white dome towering behind them, illuminated in the night.

“We didn’t come here to talk about Marie Kondo, did we?” Merlin asked.

“No… not really,” Aga replied. “Look, I know it’s none of my business and you didn’t ask for it, but… I’m worried about you, okay?”

Merlin nodded as he began to see where this was going. “Okay.”

“And you would do the same with me, if the situation was reversed… so I’m just going to say it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head earlier, I’m just going to cut straight to the point.”

“Okay.” Merlin swallowed dry, nervous for what was to come.

Aga took a deep breath. “You act as if Arthur is your boyfriend and… well, he’s not.”

Hearing the words out loud, from Aga’s mouth particularly, hit Merlin like an ice-cold shower, as his heart began hammering loudly in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, although he knew exactly what she meant.

“The way you talk about him… or to him, the way you look at him… just the way you behave around him… you think of him as that, don’t you? As your boyfriend.”

Merlin’s eyes got lost in the street in front of them, the buses, the cars coming and going, the people pacing steadily towards the tube station.

“You know I really like Arthur, right? He’s a sweet guy, cute, funny,” Aga continued. “But you’re my best friend, Emrys, and I’m so worried you’re hurting yourself.”

At the traffic light down the road, a taxi honked loudly at a cyclist crossing with a red light. Some teenagers walked on the pavement listening to a video loudly on speakers.

“I just don’t want you to wait around for something that might never happen,” Aga added as she fidgeted with her own scarf. She left the silence linger between them for a couple of seconds before resuming. “I… I think maybe you should take a step back… get some space, some clarity… push him away a little bit.”

“I-I can’t,” Merlin stuttered, his eyes still fixed on the road.

“I know, he’s going through a rough patch, and you’re such a good friend to him, but it’s been months and-“

“No, not because of that,” Merlin said. He hadn’t realised his hands were clenched in fists until his nails sinking down in his palms started hurting. “Arthur and I… we… I-I… it’s complicated, it’s…”

A silent tear streamed down his cheek, one he hadn’t realised was coming. Aga rested his hand gently against his bicep.

“I know you won’t be able to understand it, but… I’m happier now, to just be his friend, to live with him… I’m happier now than I’ve been in ages,” Merlin continued. In moments like these he wished he could tell her exactly how long the ages were.

“I do understand… you’re in love with him,” she said softly, her hand stroking his arm soothingly. “I’ve never seen you so in love before.”

“It’s more than that… Arthur is a part of me,” Merlin admitted for the first time out loud. “I love him with all my soul.”

“That’s why I’m scared,” Aga said. “What’s going to happen once he moves on… if you’re not part of that.”

For the first time since the conversation started, Merlin’s eyes sought hers, finding genuine concern, and love, and truth. She was right, after all. Arthur was going to leave, one day, sooner or later, and there was no guarantee that Merlin would have a place secured at his side.

“I don’t want to think about it,” he whispered. “But he cares about me, you know?”

“I never said he doesn’t,” Aga said, cracking a smile. “He adores you, absolutely.”

“And sometimes I think he even likes me, maybe, a little bit,” Merlin added, glancing down at his own shoes once again, the shyest smile making his way across his face.

“You do?”

“Yeah, uh… he hugs me, sometimes, if I ask him… and he took my hand for a few minutes during the fireworks, on New Year’s Eve,” Merlin said. While he felt a warmth in his stomach at the memories, at the same time he realised how pitiful they sounded to an external ear, or even his own. Just a guy, desperately in love, desperate to receive some affection. He looked up again at Aga to see all of this in her eyes, carefully masked by a sad smile.

“Emrys,” she whispered, and another tear made its way down Merlin’s cheek.

“I don’t know how else to do it,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re right… all you said is right… but I can’t do it any other way.”

He leaned over until his head rested on her shoulder as her arm snaked around his frame. There was another thing he loved about London, the anonymity, the chance of having a moment of weakness with a friend near a historical monument, at peak time, and nobody cared except her.

“If putting some space between you two isn’t an option, then you should be honest and tell him how you feel,” she suggested. “At least you’ll know where he stands.”

“You know I can’t… he’s still in love with his late wife, I don’t want to be insensitive.”

“Your feelings matter too.”

He glanced up at her but didn’t reply.

“Did you at least find out if he’s bi?” she asked then.

Merlin shook his head against her shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“But he knows you are, right?”

After a moment, Merlin shook his head again.

“What?! How does he not know?!” Aga blurted out in complete disbelief. “What do you even talk about? That was one of the first things you said to me!”

_We talk about Arthur, mostly_ , Merlin wanted to reply, but didn’t. “We don’t talk about that,” he said instead.

“Then don’t you think this could be a good starting point?”

“Yes… it could be.”

Aga smacked a purposefully loud kiss on top of Merlin’s head. “Come on, let’s go… walk to Bank with me.”

She grabbed his arm as they strolled down Cheapside towards Bank tube station.

“Do you remember the day we met?” she asked with a grin he couldn’t help but match.

“I do. I was told there was a new nurse and I came to introduce myself.”

“I was having lunch and you asked about my life story.”

“Then I asked you how you were finding London… and you said you didn’t know anyone, but that you had a nice date with Emily the previous weekend.”

“Yes, and then you said ‘cool, you’re gay, I’m half gay too’!”

“And then you said ‘I’m actually bi, but I suppose half gay works too’.”

They giggled together at the memory.

*

“Hey!” Merlin greeted upon entering the flat, seeing that the light in the living room was on.

“Oh, hey,” came Arthur’s voice.

“How was your day?” Merlin asked as he hung his coat next to the door and toed off his shoes.

“It was okay, overall,” Arthur replied.

“Did you go to the gym?”

“No, not today,” the king said just as Merlin joined him in the living room.

The warlock’s eyes travelled to the telly, turned on the Firestick home screen, before falling on Gwen’s sealed letter, tight in Arthur’s hands.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked softly.

“It’s not an easy day,” Arthur replied, delicately turning the letter in his hands, stroking it with his thumbs. “I miss her every day… but today, seeing all these happy couples and love messages everywhere… I don’t know, I miss her even more.”

Merlin took a seat on the sofa, probably a bit closer to his friend than strictly necessary. “You haven’t read it yet,” he said almost in a whisper, pointing at the intact wax seal.

“No.”

“Are you going to? Today?”

“No,” was all Arthur said.

In that moment, Merlin’s first and only instinct was to lean his head on Arthur’s shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist, to comfort him and make him feel loved.

_You think of him as your boyfriend._

“What about you?” Arthur asked then, finally redirecting his gaze from the letter to his friend.

“What about me?”

“Did you not try to… find a date? For tonight?”

Merlin believed Arthur’s cheeks had become a little bit more on the red side than usual as he asked that question. “No, uh, I… I’m not particularly into dating strangers to pass the time,” he answered honestly. “I only date someone if I meet them and think they’re worth it.”

“I see,” Arthur nodded to himself, seemingly taking in the concept. For some reasons they never really talked about dating and girls, while it was one of the main topics of conversation with his basketball mates. “So you’re not on Tinder, then?”

“N-No, I’m not,” Merlin said. “I have used it, occasionally, when it gets really… uhm, lonely. But I prefer to meet people the traditional way.” He hoped Arthur would pick up the use of gender neutral terms, because since the conversation with Aga he could think of little else. He knew he had to come out to Arthur, but he had no idea how.

However, Arthur nodded again and went back to staring at the letter in his hands, while Merlin’s heart started beating just a little faster; this was the perfect moment, the perfect chance, to just get it out, he could taste the words right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to reveal themselves, _you know, I actually date men too sometimes,_ he could have said, almost said, but didn’t, too scared of a possible reaction that would ruin everything.

He swallowed the words back and decided there would be other occasions.

“You know what,” he said instead, nudging Arthur to get his attention again. “We could go out, you and I… nothing too complicated, just grab a pint down at the pub maybe.”

_You act as if he’s your boyfriend._

Arthur sighed. “Merlin…”

“Or Nando’s! Or maybe Five Guys? Something easy… I think it would help you, to get out of the house,” he continued, purposefully suggesting the least romantic places he could come up with not to give Arthur strange ideas.

“I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight… I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

Merlin felt his own smile disappear together with his hopes of going out with Arthur on Valentine’s day, hopes that were there even if they had no business to because he and Arthur were just friends.

_You think of him as your boyfriend._

“Oh, that’s okay, no worries,” Merlin said, hiding his disappointment away.

“We can order something if you want.”

“Yeah? What do you fancy?”

Arthur thought about it for a second. “Cheeky Nando’s?”

Merlin grinned. “I’d like that too.”

The food arrived some time later, and they put on a silly comedy on Netflix, and Merlin was starting to believe this wasn’t so bad after all; it was actually pretty great for a Valentine’s night in.

With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Merlin leaned over, at some point during the film, to rest his head on Arthur’s shoulder, like they did on Christmas, hoping this would be the cherry on top of the night. He wondered if he could lay on Arthur’s lap instead, like they did on Christmas, and get his hair stroked, but for now he decided the shoulder was the safest option.

The second his head made contact, however, he felt Arthur’s body go rigid.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

A moment of silence followed. “Not tonight.”

A pang squeezed Merlin’s stomach at those words, that hurt more than he could rationally explain.

“Sure,” the warlock whispered, pulling himself up again. “Uh, I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s okay.”

Arthur didn’t say anything else, and Merlin was left staring at the telly without listening to a single word that was said, his mind spinning over Aga’s words.

_You act as if he’s your boyfriend, but… well, he’s not._

*

Merlin wasn’t a party person per se but some parties he could tolerate, enjoy even, especially in special occasions.

When Justin chose a club of all places to celebrate his twenty-ninth birthday, perhaps needing to prove something to himself, Merlin was happy to be dragged along, and brought Arthur with him too as it was now common practice.

The venue was a proper club, bright and loud and very crowded.

“You said this was going to be like Halloween!” Arthur shouted once they left their jackets in the cloakroom. “That place was much smaller!”

The volume of the music was definitely too high. “What?!” Merlin screamed back.

“This is bigger than Halloween!” Arthur tried again, this time leaning closer to his friend’s ear so that the voice could reach him more easily.

“No! Justin’s turning twenty-nine!” Merlin shouted back, and at that point Arthur gave up.

Their ears got used to the volume after a while, and communication became feasible at some point, though with a lot of shouting still necessary.

“What are you getting this time?” Merlin asked as they made their way to the bar for the second round.

“Another G&T, probably,” Arthur replied. “Though the last one was probably all tonic. You?”

“I think I’m going for the, uh… Pornstar martini.”

“What?”

“The passion fruit martini,” Merlin repeated at a louder volume.

Some complaining followed about how this place seemed to water down all drinks, but overall the night went quickly among chatting and a lot of dancing. Merlin couldn’t help noticing how Arthur had improved his dancing skills a lot, and was more confident and more coordinated and attracting Merlin’s gaze like a magnet. Not only Merlin’s. The warlock noticed quite a few young women eyeing Arthur as if he was a snack on two legs, and was actually surprised to see nobody was making a move. He believed one girl was going to try, at some point, but something made her desist. Arthur didn’t seem to even notice any of it, the flirty smiles, the hungry gazes, he seemed to enjoy dancing as a group, and occasionally with Aga, but more as a joke than anything else.

Merlin watched them, the way Arthur grabbed Aga’s hand and made her spin on herself, the way she laughed leaning against his arms, and with a pang in his stomach he wished that was him instead. Arthur, however, had no eyes for him at all, not even as a joke, and there wasn’t enough alcohol in the drinks to make Merlin want to try his luck and dance closer to Arthur.

As the clock struck 2 am, Merlin decided it was time to call it a night. He grabbed Arthur’s sleeve, pulling him closer. “Hey, I think I’m heading,” he said to his ear.

“Already?”

“I had to work the whole day today, I’m knackered,” Merlin explained. “You stay if you want.”

Arthur glanced around the dancefloor and then at his own phone. “No, no, I’m coming too.”

They approached the group to say goodbye.

“Are you leaving already?!” Justin complained. “Come on, mate, we said we’d make it to closing time!”

“Ah, maybe next time… you guys enjoy though!”

He quickly looked around and realised Aga wasn’t there anymore.

“Hey, have you seen Aga?” Merlin asked.

His friends glanced around and to one another.

“I haven’t seen her in a while, actually,” Mel said. “Maybe she’s queuing at the bar?”

Arthur and Merlin headed towards the bar, which was as crowded as ever, as the warlock raised on his toes trying to spot his friend’s familiar blond head.

“I don’t want to leave without letting her know,” he said.

Arthur nodded, looking around in the other direction. After a few seconds, he nudged Merlin as a cheeky grin appeared on his face. “I don’t think she’s going to notice we’re gone,” Arthur said, pointing at a darker area at the edge of the room. “She seems a bit busy.”

Merlin followed his friend’s finger until he spotted Aga on one of the sofas outside the dancefloor. She seemed indeed very busy straddling a guy and eating his face.

“He looks a bit like you,” Arthur added, alluding to the guy’s short black hair.

Merlin squinted his eyes, looking closer in the dark. Then, Aga seemed to whisper something to the guy’s ear and they both stood up, hand in hand, heading towards the loos.

That was when the guy’s full figure was revealed, exposing the bits that Aga’s presence was previously hidden – a cute glittery pink crop top that left very little to the imagination, and a distinctively feminine face with plump, bright red lips. Her hair was indeed similar to Merlin’s, though.

“Oh.”

Arthur’s utterance brought Merlin back to reality, as he snapped his head towards his king to see a confused frown all over his face.

“That’s… a girl,” Arthur said, almost thinking out loud.

“Uh… yeah,” Merlin said, finding himself at loss for words. “Let’s get the jackets… I’ll just pop her a text instead.”

Arthur nodded quickly, the expression on his face still doing nothing to hide his confusion. He remained silent on the topic until they left the building.

“Our Uber will be here in 5,” Merlin said, focusing his attention on his phone, pretending his heart was hammering against his ribcage in anxiety because he knew the questions were coming and he wasn’t prepared for it.

“Aren’t we taking the tube?”

“No, this line doesn’t do night service.”

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets, his ears still buzzing from the noise inside. They stood side by side on the pavement for a few seconds before he decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So, uh… Aga,” he started tentatively. “She likes girls?”

“Yeah… she does.”

“So you knew about it.”

“Of course I did, yes.”

Arthur nodded to himself. “I thought she liked boys… didn’t she bring that bloke on New Year’s Eve? The friend with benefits?” He only found out later that was just a nice way of saying they slept together.

“She… likes both,” Merlin said, feeling his throat go dry. He would need to come out himself, at some point before this conversation was over, he knew it was now or never.

“Both? What do you mean both?”

“Uhm, men and women.”

Arthur scoffed. “That’s not a thing!”

Merlin silently sighed in relief when he saw the Uber approaching them, putting their conversation on pause for a minute and giving him some time to collect his thoughts.

“It is a thing… it’s called being bisexual. Liking men and women both,” he said once they were both seated and on their way.

“Uh.” The king briefly glanced outside of the window. “When exactly did she turn gay?” he asked.

“What? No, no... she hasn’t _turned_ anything. I just told you, she’s bisexual.”

“Is it like a phase then?” Arthur asked then. “Some people want to try both before picking a side?”

“No, no, that’s not what it’s like… if you’re bi, you just like both. It’s that simple. It’s not a phase.”

“Yeah but surely you have to choose at some point.”

“You can choose a partner, a person… like everyone does, no?” Merlin explained. “You chose Gwen, but you still like women, right? It’s the same thing.”

Arthur struggled to wrap his head around this but accepted it. “I suppose.”

“For Aga, this is her identity… she was born like this. Nobody chooses who they’re attracted to, it’s just something you have… something you are,” Merlin continued, slowly paving his way to telling Arthur the truth about himself. “

“Like magic?”

Arthur’s question made Merlin’s hear skip a beat. “Uhm…”

“Something that you can’t choose, something that you’re born with, and that defines your identity,” the king continued, suddenly feeling he was understanding the concept.

“Y-yeah, I suppose, uhm… like magic, yes.”

“Oh, okay, I get that now… I just didn’t know liking both was a real thing. I thought everyone liked either men or women,” Arthur said.

With sweaty hands and his heart threatening to explode, Merlin took a deep breath, ready to speak his own truth out loud, to reveal himself in front of Arthur.

“…but the evening was nice, don’t you think? I mean, not the best music, or drinks, but I liked the mood of it,” Arthur said instead, completely changing topics and deviating from the script Merlin had been carefully preparing in his head.

“Yes… uh, it was okay,” Merlin agreed, wondering if he could postpone it again, maybe a few more weeks, maybe until the topic came up again. His heart, however, was having none of it. “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

It was like at the pool, Merlin thought, when his body was warm and the water was cooler, and all he had to do was take a deep breath before diving in. “I am like that too.”

For a moment, it was as if the time had stopped, leaving the two of them in the backseat of a car at a standstill point. Merlin watched as the lightest frown appeared again across the king’s face, twisting his mouth and his eyebrows in puzzlement.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Bisexual,” Merlin clarified, trying to remain as casual as he could, trying to make it sound as if they were having just a normal conversation about personal tastes. “I like both men and women.”

The Adam’s apple on Arthur’s neck bobbed up and down as he swallowed dry, and Merlin’s mind started spinning out of control, awaiting a reaction, becoming desperate for it with each passing second of heavy silence.

Arthur leaned his elbow against the corner of the window, watching as the houses passed by, his fingers nervously torturing his lower lip.

“You’ve never mentioned this before,” he said eventually. His tone was harsher than Merlin expected and he felt his heart sink down to his stomach.

“It… never came up,” the warlock said tentatively.

Arthur scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“What? What do you mean?” Merlin asked, the worry now evident in his voice.

When Arthur just shook his head, bringing his attention fully to the road, Merlin let himself panic.

“Arthur, what…” he started, his breath laboured as if he’d just ran a mile. “Tell me.”

Arthur shook his head again.

“Say something, please,” Merlin said again, reaching out to touch his friend’s arm.

The king winced at the contact attempt before shaking it away. “Drop it, Emrys.”

For a moment Merlin wished he could take it all back and wondered if he’d just ruined everything. “Arthur, please,” he whispered, retreating his hand to himself.

“We’ll talk later,” Arthur said flatly, his chin raising to point at the driver who had lowkey raised the music volume.

Merlin’s head fell back against the seat as he was swept by a wave of nausea. Not one word was spoken between them for the rest of the drive home, making it the longest journey Merlin could remember, giving him time to go through all the worst-case scenario in his head, as the driver’s 80s pop playlist played in the background.

The second they arrived at the house, Arthur flew out of the car with a quick “cheers”, leaving Merlin behind to thank the driver before following the king upstairs.

As he locked the flat door behind himself, Merlin took a deep breath. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, now?” he asked, taking off his jacket.

Arthur was already about to walk into the bedroom when he spun around. “What’s wrong?” he asked, faking incredulity. “Oh, let me think about it, Merlin, perhaps the fact that once again, _once again_ after fifteen centuries you’ve lied to me about who you are?!”.

Merlin felt a pang of guilt twist his stomach. “Arthur, I…”

“I just can’t believe it,” the king continued, crossing his arms to his chest. “All this time and nothing has changed.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said promptly, taking a step closer. “I’m so sorry, Arthur, I…”

“No!” Arthur stopped him, raising one finger as to shush him from afar. “That’s not good enough, Merlin,” he stated firmly. “That worked the first time, when you just shoved the truth on me suddenly while I was dying.” His hands clenched into fists. “I accepted it back then, but not now… now it’s not good enough.”

There was more in his voice, in his face, than anger, something that Merlin had forgotten with time but that was now coming back in full force. Betrayal.

“But it’s true, Arthur, I am so sorry!” Merlin repeated. “I promise you, I never meant to hurt you.”

Arthur looked down, his arms dropping at his sides, defeated. “Well, you did. Again.” Then, he walked into the bedroom.

Merlin followed him straight after. “Please, let’s not make a big deal out of this,” he pleaded. “You’re completely right, I should have told you sooner, but-“

“But what?”

They were standing face to face once again, in the bedroom. Arthur rested his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows in a challenge. “No, tell me, Merlin, but what? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked almost without expecting an answer. “I want to know, tell me.”

“I told you, it never came up,” Merlin said. “But I’m telling you now, isn’t this what matters?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t accept this, that it never _came up_. You kept it from me, like you did last time.”

“I said I’m sorry, what else do you want me to do?!” Merlin was starting to heat up too now, because Arthur’s entitled prat side was coming out in full force. “Kneel down and beg for your forgiveness, _my lord_?”

Arthur’s lips twitched in anger, he hadn’t been addressed as that in such a long time. “Are we making jokes now?”

“You’re overreacting!” Merlin held his gaze the entire time, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“ _I_ am overreacting?” Arthur barked. “You kept a secret from me, _again_ , and I am the one overreacting?”

“Hey, this is different!” Merlin was fuming too now. “My identity is absolutely none of your business!”

The second his words reached his own ears, Merlin realised he’d said the wrong thing.

Arthur’s jaw dropped open in shock, looking like he’d just been slapped on the cheek.

“Right, okay,” he said softly, pressing his lips tightly together as he nodded. The eye contact was broken. “So my best friend’s identity is none of my business.”

Merlin sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “Come on, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I just repeated your words.”

“It came out wrong,” the warlock said, his own anger dissipating in the wind to leave room for the awareness that he’d disappointed Arthur. Twice.

“Why are we even friends then, if things this important are none of my business?” Arthur asked, flatly. “ _Are_ we even friends, for real?”

“Of course we are, let me explain…”

“There’s nothing to explain, you were clear.”

“Arthur no, I love you, I-“

As soon as he realised what words tumbled out of his mouth, Merlin’s blood froze in his veins as he held his breath, and time came to a stop. Arthur remained silent too, for a second, seemingly waiting for a follow-up that Merlin was unable to provide.

“And yet you don’t trust me to accept you for who you truly are, do you,” Arthur said eventually, almost in a whisper, his whole expression losing that ounce of anger left to reveal the pure hurt beneath. “You never have.”

Merlin released his breath, trembling, the tension still firmly clutching his stomach. “Arthur…”

“It’s late… I’m tired,” Arthur said. He walked to his side of the bed, past Merlin’s still body. “I’m going to bed.”

That shook Merlin off his state. “N-no, we need to finish talking, I don’t want to go to bed like this!”

“I have nothing else to say,” Arthur countered. “It’s past three, I want to sleep.” He grabbed his pillow and pyjamas off the bed, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Merlin asked.

“I’m sleeping on the sofa,” Arthur replied as if it should have been obvious. “I need space.”

Feeling his own throat clench in a knot at the idea that his friend couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him, Merlin walked to his bed. “No, stay… I’m taking the sofa.”

The king didn’t put up any sort of resistance. “Suit yourself.” His eyes followed Merlin around the room as he gathered all he needed for the night before walking out of the room. He only looked back once, desperate to meet his king’s gaze and make him change his mind, or to continue the conversation even, anything but go to bed with this stone-heavy weight on his chest. Instead, Arthur avoided his friend’s eyes and quickly shut the door.

A tear flowed silently down Merlin’s cheek as he changed into his pyjamas in the living room, alone, with the previous minutes replaying non-stop in his head. Yes, Arthur had overreacted, and felt entitled to information that didn’t concern him directly, but Merlin had managed to say all the wrong things, one after the other, peaking at the involuntary love confession at the end, something that had slipped out before he could even realise it.

A confession that Arthur ignored completely, as if it never happened.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Soon, Merlin began thinking that he should have come out sooner. Months ago. Immediately, during the first week, back when he was teaching Arthur about life in the twenty-first century. Way before his own feelings became clear and stronger than ever.

But he didn’t.

And then it was too late.

And now Merlin hurt his king again, and it made him wish he could go back in time, just a bit.

He lay down on the sofa, in the dark, under a throw blanket, with the awareness of having betrayed his friend’s feelings. Perhaps if he’d just apologised, instead of fighting back, maybe the argument would have gone differently. He didn’t even try to sleep, no matter the exhaustion, or the time, almost closer to when he would normally wake up than when he usually went to bed; slumber wasn’t going to visit him that night. A few times he was tempted to get up, knock on the bedroom door, go to Arthur and apologise again. Having him in the other room like this, angry and disappointed, was unbearable.

He always desisted in the end, too scared to do more harm than good.

He wondered if Arthur could fall asleep at all, or if, like Merlin, he was also tossing and turning, with a clenched jaw and stomach pains.

It was almost morning when he heard steps in the bedroom first, then in the corridor, stopping right outside the living room door.

Merlin immediately sat up, licking his lips, waiting for Arthur to knock, or come in directly, it didn’t matter. Instead, the king lingered outside, silent, without making any motion to move in either direction.

“I’m awake,” Merlin said, hoping Arthur would think of it as an invitation.

He did.

The king pushed the door open and walked in the dark room. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he said softly.

“I never slept,” Merlin said quickly in reassurance.

“Do you mind…?” Arthur asked, his finger hovering above the light switch. When Merlin nodded, the king flicked it and the room suddenly was filled with brightness. Both men squinted slightly at the change.

Merlin tucked his knees up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around them, leaving space for Arthur to sit with him.

“I haven’t slept either,” Arthur admitted as he sat down in the empty space. “And most days I’m already in Tesco at this time, so I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, almost automatically.

“No, uh… don’t apologise… let me speak, okay?” Arthur asked.

The warlock nodded.

“I, uh… I wanted to apologise to you, actually,” Arthur began, fidgeting with his own hands in his lap, his eyes fixed in front of him. “You were right, I… might have overreacted.”

Merlin stopped his jaw from falling open.

“I think I understood what you meant when you said it wasn’t any of my business,” Arthur continued tentatively, avoiding his friend’s eyes like the plague. “You just meant it doesn’t concern me… who you sleep or don’t sleep with. Unlike magic… that had a direct impact on my actions.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something but no sounds came out.

“…so while I was hurt, that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me sooner, it… well, it was your own choice. And you had your motivations, and whatever they were, I’m going to respect your choice,” Arthur concluded. He finally took courage to look up. “Did I… get that right?”

“Yeah… yeah, you did,” Merlin said softly. “But I should apologise too, I should have told you the truth sooner.”

“You’ve apologised already, earlier.” The corner of the king’s lip twitched up shily.

“I want it to be clear… that I didn’t mean to hurt you, and that I trust you. With my life,” Merlin said. “You know that, right? Please say you know.”

Arthur bit his own lower lip. “I suppose I do, on some level.”

“I’ll try to make it even clearer, every time I can.”

“So we’re good?”

“I’m good if you are,” Merlin replied. “And that was a very mature speech by the way… I am impressed. Wasn't expecting that from a prat like you.” When Arthur punched his arm, pretending to be offended, Merlin chuckled, glad they were on horseplay terms again.

“I, uh… I do have a couple of questions, though,” Arthur said, casually, twisting on the sofa until he was fully facing Merlin, one leg bent on the cushion and the other touching the floor, his elbow resting on the seatback. “Is that okay?”

“Anything, I’ll answer anything,” the warlock said eagerly, tightening the wrap around his own knees, bracing himself to explain the misplaced love confession.

“Right, uhm… do you have a preference? Between men and women?” Arthur asked.

Not the question Merlin was expecting but he said he was going to answer anything, and he would. “Not really… not a preference,” he replied. “I suppose numerically I have been with more women than men, but I like them equally… it’s all about who I fall for.”

“And, uh, have you always known you were… bisexual?”

Merlin had to press his lips together to refrain from laughing. “Uh, no.”

Arthur seemed surprised by the answer he received. “No?”

“I only found out fairly recently… you know, considering how long I’ve been alive.”

“When?”

The lightest blush spread across Merlin’s cheeks. “Fourteenth century.”

“What? How did you go almost a millennium without knowing?!”

“It was different, back then… nowhere near where we are today,” Merlin explained. “For so long it was… it was a sin, something you do with shame, and hide from. Nobody talked about it.”

“Yeah, uh, I remember,” Arthur admitted. “I’m not even sure I knew about it at all. That men could be with other men, like that.”

“Exactly.”

“The situation is better now, right?”

“It’s better than it’s ever been… here, in western Europe, at least,” Merlin said. “We can be proud of who we are, talk about it out loud… I mean, it’s not perfect, there are still people who think we’ll burn in hell, but I can’t complain.”

Arthur nodded to himself, his gaze low in meditation. “You haven’t answered my question though.”

“I haven’t?”

“You told me why you couldn’t say it out loud… I asked how you figured it out yourself.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, you said you were born like this… surely you…” Artur gestured vaguely in front of him. “Had suspicions?”

Merlin glanced down too, at his own knees, hearing the unspoken question. Arthur wanted to know exactly how long Merlin had been lying to him about it.

“Believe me, I didn’t know… for many centuries, I had no idea… and when I started suspecting, I was in denial, I hated it, hated the fact that I was…” the warlock searched his mind for the right words. “That I’d been cursed… again… first with magic, then with an immortal life, and now also cursed to enjoy…” He stopped, breathing, swallowing around the growing knot in his throat. “Sodomy.”

Suddenly, some memories of that time flashed across his mind, the judging eyes of the people, the father of his first male lover who kicked him out of the house, naked, in winter, threatening to cut off his balls if he’d shown up again. The centuries spent lying, the secret letters burned after reading in fear that someone would find them, that one patient who told him she’d rather die than have her health in the hands of a dirty sodomite.

When Arthur’s hand landed delicately on his arm, Merlin tasted salty in his own mouth, and realised a tear had managed to escape the barrier of his eyes.

“Merlin, I… I’m so sorry you had to feel like this, for so long,” the king said softly, shifting a bit closer to his friend. “For what it’s worth, I accept you… all of you.” His thumb stroked Merlin’s arm gently above the pyjama sleeve. “You were always nothing but a gift to me.”

Then, as another tear rolled down Merlin’s cheek, Arthur tugged on his arm and watched as Merlin unrolled himself to accept the invitation into the king’s arms. The position was a bit uncomfortable, twisted and unbalanced, but nothing could stop Merlin from burying his nose in Arthur’s neck, smelling the residual of the night before, some cologne and some sweat, as the king’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“It means a lot,” Merlin whispered, his lips moving against his friend’s skin. He couldn’t see it, but Arthur smiled softly.

They stayed in each other’s arms for a few minutes, in silence, just enjoying the closeness after the fight of the night.

“I still don’t understand,” Arthur’s voice broke the quiet after a while, as they parted. “How did you not know? How do you miss something so big?”

Merlin shrugged. “When you don’t know something exists, you struggle to recognise it… even if you have doubts, you end up thinking it’s something else.”

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement. “It makes sense, I think.”

“Did you… have any other questions?” Merlin asked then, suddenly realising that none of Arthur’s questions had been around the love confession. He heard it, surely, he reacted to it, and yet he was now pretending it never happened.

“No, not really… thank you for answering the ones I had.”

“Uh, anytime,” Merlin replied, really confused.

Arthur got up to switch off the light, leaving the dim early morning sun to light the room. “The sun is out,” he said, walking to the window. “I might go for a walk.”

“I can come with you,” Merlin said, joining his friend by the window, the throw blanket still hanging from his shoulders.

“Aren’t you going back to sleep?”

“It’s supposed to turn to rain in the afternoon… I’d rather enjoy the sunshine,” Merlin admitted. He just wanted to spend more time with Arthur, really. “But I need to take a shower first.”

“Me too yes,” Arthur agreed. “What do you say we go for a walk, then brunch?”

“We could try that place in Chelsea, the one that does Dutch pancakes.”

“Yeah, let’s go there.”

“Then we come home and take a nap.”

Arthur snickered. “By then it will be needed… and then tonight we have the show, don’t we?”

“ _Wicked_ , yes,” Merlin confirmed, excited that it was going to be Arthur’s first musical.

“Sounds like a plan,” Arthur said with a smile. He was about to head to the bathroom, when Merlin stopped him. There was an elephant in the room that still needed to be addressed.

“Hey, Arthur, uh…” Merlin started. “I know you said you don’t have any other questions, but… uhm, that other thing I… mentioned… don’t you need any… I don’t know, clarifications?”

Arthur frowned. “What other thing?”

“You know… at the end, when I said… you know, I said…”

As Arthur’s eyebrows threatened to merge into one line on his forehead, Merlin accepted he was going to have to repeat it, to declare himself once again, this time in plain daylight.

His heart picked up the pace, and he licked his lips quickly before pronouncing the words again. “…I said that I love you.”

“Oh, that!” Arthur said, his face immediately relaxing. “Why would I have any questions about that? I already knew.”

This time, it was Merlin’s mouth that opened in disbelief. “You… knew?”

“Of course.” Arthur’s lips curled up in a shy but sweet smile. “I mean… okay, it was a bit weird to hear the words like that, but… we’re friends, right?”

“Right. Yes, we’re friends,” Merlin found himself saying.

“And our destinies are… connected, aren’t they?” Arthur continued. “So how could I not know that you… care, about me?”

“Oh, right,” Merlin muttered.

“And you do know I feel the same, yes?” Arthur asked, this time blushing a little. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you… of course I…” The words eluded him. “I’m not going to say it, but of course I feel the same you do. You knew that, right?”

Merlin sighed, forcing out a smile, realising his love confession had been completely misunderstood. “I knew, of course. Yes.”

“Okay. Good,” Arthur said, mirroring his friend’s smile. “I’m going to shower now, okay? Unless you want to go first?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine, go ahead,” Merlin said.

Once the king left, he leaned his forehead against the cold window, a feeling of numbness spreading throughout his body. He’d had the chance to get it all out there, to correct Arthur and tell him all the truth, and he failed to do so. He chickened out. He saw Arthur’s misunderstanding as a way out of a hard situation, and eagerly took it.

Now there was one more lie between them, leaving Merlin uncertain on how to face it.

Later they walked through a silent Holland Park, enjoying the contrast between the crisp cold air and the sight of trees in full bloom, sign of an upcoming spring.

As they strolled, the back of their hands brushed softly against one another in time with their steps, leaving Arthur with a lingering temptation he was a bit too familiar with.

They’d had such a tumultuous night and raw morning that he decided there would be nothing wrong in indulging, just this once, just for a few minutes. He tentatively reached for Merlin’s hand and held it in his own, eliciting a startled gasp from the warlock.

“Is this okay?” Arthur asked.

Merlin was very quick to answer. “Yes. Yes of course.”

One minute later, Merlin’s previous words for that morning were chanting non-stop in Arthur’s brain, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

_When you don’t know something exists, you struggle to recognise it._

As the days went by, Arthur realised there were so many things he still didn’t know about his best friend and his long life. The following weekend, they cancelled all their plans and drove to Glastonbury, on a rainy cold day that felt like winter again.

Merlin, who wanted to show his king how much he trusted him, opened up his soul completely, box after box, reliving all of his lifetimes in front of an attentive Arthur, finding again old friends and lovers, revelling in the joy he remembered them bringing to his days.

Arthur listened for hours, sat on the cold wooden floor of the attic, to all the warlock’s stories, the funny ones and the tragic ones, the ones about love and the ones about discrimination. When the last box had been put back, he finally felt he knew Merlin as much as Merlin knew him.

*

Most times they hung out with each other’s friends, and invited each other’s to join social events. Sometimes, however, they also enjoyed having their own space, and doing their own things, especially when the gathering was midweek or work-related.

Like tonight, Merlin was attending the leaving drinks organised by someone from work, and Arthur wasn’t invited, nor he wanted to be. It was Merlin’s thing, his colleague; moreover, it was a Thursday, and Arthur had to work the following morning. He just spent a quiet evening home, enjoying this very cool new techy tool he’d recently purchased, called Playstation, then went to sleep at a reasonable hour like the responsible adult he was.

He was startled awake at some point by a vibrating sound coming from the nightstand. He blinked his eyes open, taking a second to take in his surroundings. He glanced at the buzzing phone, his eyes immediately falling on the name of the caller – Aga. A sense of doom fell onto him as he came to realise, taking a glimpse of the dark room, that it was past one, and Merlin wasn’t back yet.

With a trembling hand, he unplugged the phone and brought it to his ear. “Aga?”

_“Arthur, hi… uhm, did I wake you?”_

“No, yes, it’s fine… is everything okay?” Arthur asked, his voice still thick with sleep but his mind in an alert state.

_“Yes, don’t worry, everything is fine… uh, it’s just, uhm, Emrys…”_

“What’s wrong with him, has something happened?”

_“No, no, he’s fine, nothing happened, he’s just a bit… uh, drunk.”_

Arthur chuckled and sighed in relief at the same time. “Right, okay.”

_“I’ve never seen him this drunk, honesty… he’s completely out of it, uh… I’m going to put him in an Uber now, are you okay to wait for him? He might need some help,”_ Aga said, the concern clear in her voice even over the phone.

“Of course, yes.”

_“Thanks, I just want to make sure he gets home okay.”_

“No, thanks… thank you for calling, Aga,” Arthur smiled. “Are you okay to get home? You can jump in with Emrys if you want, crash on the sofa.”

_“Nah, no worries, I’m just a bit tipsy, I’ll get a taxi too, soon.”_

“Okay, please call again if you need anything, I’m awake.”

_“Thanks, Arthur, I’ll share the Uber itinerary with you in a sec.”_

They said goodbye and Arthur placed his phone back on the nightstand, rubbing his eyes. That absolute idiot.

Some half an hour later, the Uber car pulled over in front of the house, while Arthur waited on the pavement, wrapped up in a jacket above his pyjamas. Spring might have started already, but the nights were still quite cold.

He opened the car door to find Merlin in a clearly inebriated state.

“Arthur?” the drunk warlock asked, suddenly finding the king in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re home, you _idiot_ ,” Arthur said. “Come on, get out.”

Merlin’s face showed nothing but confusion as he stepped out of the car, or tried to, failing miserably and ending with his bum on the cold pavement. Arthur sighed, closing the car door and waving the driver goodbye, before pulling on Merlin’s arm, forcing him to stand.

“Rough night, was it,” he said, helping Merlin’s arm around his shoulders and wrapping his own around the warlock’s waist.

Merlin giggled. “ _Fun_. I had _fun_ ,” he said, quite loudly, apparently forgetting it was the middle of the night.

“Right, you can tell me as we go.”

And Merlin did, started talking like a machine gun about the very fancy place they went to, and the amazing cocktails, and the great music, and then some hospital gossip regarding people Arthur never heard of before, all while the king tried his best to take both of them inside as soon as possible.

The flights of stairs to the flat turned out to be particularly tricky, as Merlin kept slipping, dragging Arthur down with him, or simply deciding he wanted to sit down for a bit.

“Merlin, can you collaborate please, some of us have to work in the morning,” Arthur said, his arms on his hips, looking down at his very drunk friend just chilling on the stairs as if he was still at the bar.

Merlin laughed, bumping his head back against the wall. “Not me!” Then, he got serious. “Not me, right?”

“No, not you,” Arthur confirmed with a sigh. When Merlin started laughing again, Arthur decided he’d had enough. “Right, that’s it, I’m going to carry you,” he announced.

His first instinct was to carry the warlock like a potato sack across his shoulders, before realising having his head hanging upside down, even just for a minute, could have had potentially disastrous consequences. Instead, Arthur pulled again Merlin’s arm and snaked a hand under his knees, taking on the weight on his arms. Almost instinctively, Merlin’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s neck.

“Good thing you’re not that heavy,” Arthur said, panting as he carried his friend up the stairs.

Merlin rested his head against the crook of the king’s neck. “Mhm, you’re so strong,” he moaned softly, almost purring, rubbing his cheek against the jacket. “I like it… that you’re so strong…” He dragged his nose a bit higher, nuzzling that spot right behind Arthur’s ear. “And you smell so good.”

“I showered,” Arthur stated flatly, forcefully ignoring the shiver the simple touch had caused and focusing on the physical effort instead. Once they got to their floor, he put Merlin back down on his own two feet, sighing in relief, his arms burning in pain.

“I’m going to put you to bed, now, okay?” Arthur asked as he pushed the door closed behind them, Merlin’s body still pressed against his side for balance.

“Yes, yes,” Merlin said softly. Then, his eyes grew wide. “No! No! Not yet!” he added a second later.

“What now?”

Merlin cupped his hand at the side of his mouth and leaned closer to Arthur’s ear. “I need a wee,” he whispered, followed by a giggle.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine.” He dragged Merlin to the bathroom, trying to help him out of his jacket in the meantime. “Do you need any help in there?”

“Nooooope,” Merlin replied, dragging out the ‘o’ before popping the p’, managing to spit on Arthur’s face in the process.

“Okay, I’ll wait here,” Arthur said, stepping outside of the bathroom. “Please sit down, I don’t want to clean up your piss later.”

Merlin grinned like an idiot. “Ha! Joke’s on you, I always sit.”

“Like a girl,” Arthur teased.

“Like a lady,” Merlin countered, wiggling his eyebrows.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in confusion and watched his friend stumble unsteadily in the bathroom. In the meantime, Arthur took off his own jacket and shoes, and eyed the open bedroom door, longing to go back to it.

A thud coming from the bathroom caught his attention a minute later, and Arthur ran back only to find Merlin two steps away from the toilet, sitting on the cold floor with his jeans around his ankles.

“I forgot to pull them back up,” he laughed, lying back down on the floor.

Arthur shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance and a tiny bit of gratefulness that at least Merlin’s underwear was where it was supposed to be. He walked closer to his friend again and after some manoeuvring to get him to stand up again, Arthur scooped him back up into his arms like earlier, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of Merlin’s legs. “Bedtime,” Arthur said.

Merlin was grinning again. “Yes, take me to bed, Your Majesty,” he purred, going back to dragging his nose up and down along the king’s jawline.

“You really are completely pissed, aren’t you, Merlin,” Arthur said, walking into the bedroom. “So much for pacing yourself, eh?”

“I had fun!”

“We’ll see in the morning,” Arthur said, gently sitting his friend down on the single bed.

Merlin glanced up, his pupils dilated by the alcohol. “Undress me.”

Arthur already knew he would have had to do that, but sighed anyway, slowly shaking his head. Merlin’s trousers were already down and came away easily after Arthur quickly removed the shoes and socks, putting them on the side, while the warlock had started chatting away again about random topics.

“It’s like Charles used to say,” Merlin said at some point. “Enivrez-vous.”

“What?” Arthur asked, exhausted.

“ _Enivrez-Vous!_ ” Merlin repeated a very theatrical tone. “ _Il faut être toujours ivre! Tout est là: c'est l'unique question…_ ”

Arthur stopped listening and focused on the task at hand.

_“…il faut vous enivrer sans trêve. mais de quoi?_ _De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise. Mais enivrez-vous…_ ”

Despite the nonsense that was flooding out of Merlin’s mouth, something Arthur suspected to be French, the warlock seemed quite cooperative and raised his arms up when the king tugged at the lower hem of his t-shirt. Next, Arthur grabbed the pyjama top, and rolled it up.

“ _…Et si quelquefois, sur les marches d'un palais, sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé, dans la solitude morne de votre chambre, vous vous réveillez…_ ”

“Merlin!” Arthur called a bit abruptly, and the warlock suddenly stopped talking, his mouth in a straight line, his eyes open wide. “My alarm is in three hours, focus, please!” the king continued, nodding at the top he was holding up. “Arms up!”

Merlin was still looking up at him, in silence. “Am I pretty?” he asked in a whisper.

Arthur’s arms dropped against his thighs as he frowned. “What now?”

“Am I pretty?” the warlock repeated, and for the first time Arthur realised he was standing in front of an almost naked Merlin, bared in the dim light of the room except for his boxers, for the first time. It never really happened before; Merlin had seen Arthur naked a thousand times, but Arthur never had, never had the occasion to, never really cared about it.

The king flinched when he realised a part of him now _wanted_ to look at Merlin’s body. He quickly repressed it. “You’re pretty drunk, that’s what you are,” he said, holding up the top again.

Merlin, however, still wasn’t moving. “Okay but am I pretty? I am, right?”

Arthur was on the brink of exasperation. “Yes, you’re very pretty,” he said. “You know what would make you even prettier? Your pyjamas.”

At that, Merlin smiled and finally lifted up his arms, allowing Arthur to complete the task. Before he had the chance to even grab the pyjama trousers, Merlin stood up, a bit unsteadily at first but managing to balance himself.

“No trousers, okay,” Arthur muttered to himself, lifting up the corner of the duvet to get Merlin in. The warlock however was already climbing on the double bed instead.

“Your bed is this one,” Arthur said.

“Mhm, no, I want to sleep here,” Merlin stated, slurring a little, as he found his way under the covers. “In the big bed. With you.”

Arthur was so desperate to sleep some more that he didn’t care, nor he fought back. Instead, he walked over to his side of the bed, finding his previous slot almost still warm. “Okay, but we go to sleep, no more talking,” he said, reaching over to switch off the light, realising he probably had time to fit in another REM cycle before his alarm.

The second the room plunged into darkness, Merlin made his way across the bed and rested his head on Arthur’s chest, right above his heart.

Arthur, defeated and exhausted, snaked his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, hearing his friend sigh in content.

“Sleep, now,” Arthur said, praying that the warlock would just stop moving.

One second later, Merlin was shifting again, pushing himself higher up until he was nuzzling Arthur’s neck and one of his legs covered the king’s ones, a good half of his body weight now on top of Arthur.

“You can’t get any closer,” the king pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Merlin’s lips tickled the skin of Arthur’s neck as he spoke.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

One second later, Merlin was moving again, and there a pair of wet lips was pressing a light kiss on Arthur’s cheek, just above his jawline.

“What _are_ you doing now, Merlin,” Arthur groaned in frustration and a bit of unease.

“Just a goodnight kiss,” Merlin replied. From his voice, he sounded more asleep than awake already. “Do I get one too?”

“No. Sleep.”

“Just one kiss.”

Arthur groaned again, his eyes rolling back, and brushed the quickest peck on the top of Merlin’s head. “There you go.”

In response, Merlin sighed happily. “Thank you… I love you, you know?”

Arthur sighed. “I know, yes.”

“Mh. I don’t think you do.”

“I do, we talked about this a couple of weeks ago,” Arthur said, wondering why he was bothering at all when Merlin was in such a state.

“But I mean it in so many ways… and you just don’t know…”

Arthur’s heart suddenly was beating in his ears at the confession, one that he decided he had to ignore, for now, because Merlin was too drunk to mean anything. He was, right?

“Merlin, you’re too drunk to talk about this,” he said. “We…”

He was interrupted by a soft snoring, a sign that Merlin had fallen asleep, leaving Arthur confused and breathless and wondering if his friend had heard his heart suddenly thump against his ribcage.

He didn’t mean it like _that_ , did he?

Arthur glanced down at his friend, sound asleep, his mouth hanging slightly open, as he felt a mix of feelings he struggled to qualify.

He’d been vaguely thinking about it, himself, since they’d had that discussion on bisexuality. A part of his brain had started wondering about his own feelings, what they meant, if they could be something different than what he’d thought. Could he be bisexual too, maybe, perhaps? Could he maybe like Merlin not just as a friend?

That couldn’t be, right? Arthur was straight. Married to Guinevere. Wasn’t he?

Now, as he watched Merlin sleep in his arms, this amazing strong wise man who saved his life over and over again, Arthur’s heart clenched in his chest, wishing there was a way to solve all his doubts.

He pressed a kiss on Merlin’s forehead again, letting his lips linger for two full seconds this time, before succumbing to sleep himself.


	10. Grow yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you're all doing well :) it was a lovely snowy day here today, the last time it snowed was three years ago, so it was super exciting!  
> I didn't know until now whether I wanted to split this chapter in two or not, and then in the end I did, otherwise it was a bit too long. I'll post the second part in a couple of days and it's going to be quite intense... you can treat this chapter as "prep" for the next one!  
> Also, as you can guess from the title, this chapter is going to be very Arthur-centric, yes more than usual.  
> As always, thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy! xx

When Arthur came home the following day after his shift at work, he was not surprised to find Merlin still in bed, the curtains pulled together and the door semi-closed just like he’d left them upon leaving that morning.

He took off his shoes and pushed the bedroom door open, the light from the hallway revealing a still fast asleep Merlin lying on his stomach with both arms buried under the pillow and the duvet pushed down to his hips. His face was turned towards the window, a detail that had Arthur wiggle his eyebrows in mean excitement.

The king tiptoed to the window with a grin before pulling the curtains open in one smooth move, letting the bright sunlight hit Merlin right in the face.

“Rise and shine, you sleepy head!” Arthur announced purposefully louder than he would have normally done.

Merlin instantly woke up, scrunching his face to prevent the light from going into his eyes. “Mhm, close them up,” he mumbled, turning his head to the other side.

Arthur walked closer to the bed to make sure the next words would reach directly into Merlin’s ears. “Come on, up and at ‘em!”

“Shut up!” Merlin rolled on his side and attempted to cover his ears with the pillow, unsuccessfully, as he could hear Arthur snicker. “Prat.”

“Just having some fun!” the king said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t you have to be at work?”

“It’s half noon. I went to work already,” Arthur explained with an amused grin.

At those words, Merlin slowly rolled around until he was on his back, one arm draped across his eyes. “That late?”

“That late, yes.” Something softened inside of Arthur now that he’d had his fun. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” Merlin mumbled. “My head is exploding.”

“You do look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Slowly, Merlin lifted his arm off his face to let his eyes adjust to the light gradually, grateful that Arthur’s figure was blocking the direct sunlight with the way he was sitting.

“You were very drunk.”

“I hadn’t drunk this much in decades, and now I remember why,” Merlin declared, his hands joined on his stomach, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was still so tired.

“Are you going to stay in bed the whole day?” Arthur teased.

“Maybe,” Merlin replied.

“Why don’t you get up, while I’m home? I’m leaving again in a couple of hours,” Arthur suggested. “We can have lunch. Or breakfast, in your case.”

“Not hungry.”

Arthur couldn’t understand this. Every time he drank alcohol, the next morning he was always starving and feeling like he could eat a giraffe. Merlin, on the contrary, tended to reject food when hungover. “You should eat something. And drink water,” Arthur said. Seeing that his friend wasn’t reacting, he added one more suggestion. “I can cook something.”

Merlin opened one eye, directing it at his friend. “Like what?”

“I can make my specialty.”

“Pot noodles?”

Arthur scoffed. “Excuse me?” He poked Merlin against his ribs, making him jerk. “Are you dismissing the progress I’ve made with my cooking skills?”

Merlin’s lips twitched up in a smile, both eyes now fully open. “What’s your specialty then?”

“Beans on toast.”

Merlin couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped from his throat. “Okay, I’ll have a bite of it.”

Arthur did his best to prepare it, he even opened the BBC Good Food recipe on his phone just in case he forgot one of the three steps. However, the second Merlin got up from the bed he had to run to the toilet to be sick, and that one ounce of appetite he had worked up managed to fly out of the window.

When Arthur entered the living room with a plate of beans on toast for himself, he was surprised to see Merlin on the sofa, sitting up with his legs to his chest. “I thought you went back to bed,” the king said.

Merlin shrugged. “I’ll sit with you a bit.”

“Doesn’t the smell of food bother you?” Arthur asked as he took a seat.

“It’s okay for now.”

Arthur eyed his friend up and down. “Good to see you put on your trousers.”

Merlin elbowed him against his side. “I’m not drunk anymore.”

“I can’t believe how you drunk you were last night,” Arthur said, taking a first bite.

“Did I…” Merlin faltered. “Did I do something stupid? Said something stupid?”

Arthur froze at those words, masking his own hesitation behind the need to chew his food before speaking. He knew the topic had to be brought up at some point, but he didn’t want to be the one forcing it on someone who had no idea what the topic even was.

“Everything you say is stupid, Merlin,” he said eventually.

“Such a _prat_ , always.”

They put on the telly just to have a background while they sat in silence for a few minutes while Arthur had his meal.

“My head is killing me,” Merlin said at some point, rubbing his eyes on his wrists, as Arthur put the empty plate on the coffee table.

“Did you take something?”

“Hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Taken by a not-so-uncommon outburst of tenderness, Arthur grabbed one of the cushions and fixed it across his lap. “Come on, lie down.”

Merlin eyed him suspiciously. “You sure?”

When Arthur nodded, Merlin decided he didn’t need to be told twice, and he lay down with his head on his king’s lap, facing the ceiling, so that their eyes could meet. He knew it was a bit weird, to lie face up like this, but his head felt better this way. 

He sighed in content when Arthur’s hand landed in his hair, noticing how the king had such a sweet smile on him, one Merlin rarely saw. Arthur’s fingers moved against Merlin’s scalp, the warlock’s brain suddenly registering little else but the movement on his head, the soothing strokes, the wave of warmth they sent down his body. His eyes fluttered shut.

A minute later, Arthur’s eyes were caught by the trail of goosebumps on Merlin’s bare arms. “Are you cold?”

“Cold?... No, why?”

“You’ve got goosebumps.”

Merlin’s eyes snapped open as his cheeks were suddenly burning with the embarrassment of being caught. “No, uh, it’s… it’s you. Touching my hair.”

Arthur’s cheeks were burning too, his hands stilling. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Arthur said quickly, resuming the strokes. He was doing this for Merlin’s enjoyment, after all, more than his own, but seeing it, like this, raw on his body, had a slightly different effect. He decided to push it aside, for now. He let his fingers roll and tug some of Merlin’s curls. “I had to carry you up the stairs yesterday, you know,” he said with a smirk. “And then in the bedroom.”

“Nice of you,” Merlin said, trying to keep himself coherent.

“And then at some point, you started speaking French.”

“I did? What was I saying?”

Arthur snorted. “Are you asking _me_?” His fingertips moved in circles on top of Merlin’s head, his nails scratching the soft scalp. “You just mentioned it was something about Charles… whoever he is.”

Merlin frowned. “Charles?” He seemed to think about it for a moment, his eyes trailing to the side, before the epiphany came. “Oh! Charles Baudelaire, probably.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Not really, I never got to meet him, but I’ve always admired his work… I know some of his poems by heart.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was? A poem?”

“Possibly, yes.” He would have liked to know which one but realised it would have been pointless to ask. “What else happened?” He bit his lower lip nervously before pronouncing the next words. “I wasn’t in my bed this morning.”

“I tried putting you into your own bed but you were having none of it,” Arthur explained with a fond smile. “Oh, and then you drooled on me.”

Merlin chuckled.

“But... uh, that’s it,” Arthur concluded. “So you don’t remember anything? At all?”

When Merlin shook his head, Arthur accepted that he would never get the clarification he desperately wanted and needed.

They brought the attention back to the telly, making some small talk here and there, Arthur’s hand tirelessly working on Merlin’s head, combing and petting his dark strands until the warlock’s eyelids grew heavier.

Slowly, Arthur’s thumb moved to Merlin’s forehead, lightly stroking his hairline, watching his eyes fall shut for good and his lips part ever so slightly, something that Arthur could only take as a good sign. He started focusing his attention less on the hair, and more on the soft skin of Merlin’s forehead and temples, revelling at the sight of the goosebumps back in full force on his friend’s arms.

He grinned.

“I’ll go back to bed in a minute,” Merlin said, though making no move to get up at all. His voice too betrayed his intentions, sounding muffled by tiredness and probably the painkillers kicking in.

“Sure,” Arthur said, repressing a chuckle, his thumbs circling Merlin’s temples.

A minute later, Merlin’s breath evened out, his chest raising and falling almost unperceptively, and Arthur grabbed a throw blanket from the back of the sofa to drape it across his legs.

*

Arthur didn’t lose any sleep on it, really, but it was always in the back of his mind, a buzzing of sorts, a question he didn’t know how to answer.

Was he bi?

On one hand, the pull he felt towards Merlin was growing stronger every day. On the other hand, well, surely he would have noticed earlier? Surely in his whole life, surrounded by knights and male servants, he would have developed a crush on somebody before, right? Merlin had plenty of male lovers.

Arthur briefly wondered if, back then, he did maybe have a crush on Merlin, sort of, a little one, but it was a thought that gave him a headache. It’d been so long, before Gwen, when he was still Prince, and Merlin was his idiot servant, and the world was different, and Arthur soon decided he wasn’t going to dwell on this anymore.

What mattered was here, now.

And he needed a confidante.

One evening, while Merlin was staying at the hospital for the night shift, Arthur invited Elias over for a conversation about personal matters, as well as a beer or two and some videogames.

They sat next to each other on the sofa, joysticks in hand and a pack of six beers on the coffee table.

“Actually, uhm, before we start playing, there’s something I wanted to…” Arthur hesitated, his stomach twisting on itself. “…run by you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Uhm, I think…” Arthur started, fidgeting with the joystick in his hands, realising there was no other way to say this but to actually say it. “I might be bi.”

Elias gave him a fond smile and a nod of acknowledgement. “Good for you, mate.”

“Bi as in ‘bisexual’,” Arthur added quickly, unsure whether that was obvious already.

Elias chuckled, nodding again. “Yeah, I got that,” he said. “That’s cool, mate, thank you for telling me.” He leaned over to grab a bottle of beer and popped it open, leaving Arthur baffled at the reaction, or lack of thereof, because this was a big deal and Elias was behaving as if he was just told Arthur’s favourite pizza topping.

This was a big deal, wasn’t it?

“I’m not sure, though,” Arthur continued at that point. “If I am or not.”

Elias crooked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, the bottle of beer suspended halfway to his mouth. “You don’t know if you like blokes or not?”

“That’s what I meant, yes.” Arthur cleared his throat. “There’s this person that I… I might like, and…”

“And it’s a bloke?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you like blokes.” With those words, Elias took a sip of his beer.

“What? No, I… I’m not sure I like him. That’s the point,” Arthur clarified.

Elias placed the beer back on the coffee table to give his friend the full attention. “Right, I don’t mean to put this too bluntly, but do you wanna suck his dick or not?”

“I, uh… I don’t know, okay? I never thought about it.”

“Is he gay? This chap.”

“He’s bi.”

“Okay, so why don’t you go for it?” Elias said with a shrug. “Just take him out for dinner, kiss him, and see what happens.”

“I can’t do that… he’s my friend, and…” Arthur paused, looking down at his own feet. “I think he likes me, I think…” His eyes now scanned the room as if he was expecting the right words to appear on the walls. “I think he’s in love with me, and… I can’t just _see what happens_ , I don’t want to hurt him, you know, in case I realise I don’t want to go further with him.” That was Arthur’s number one fear, the very reason why he couldn’t talk about this with Merlin at all – the risk of hurting him, of losing him as friend, of leading him on and then breaking his heart.

Elias nodded, crossing his legs, his head propped up on his wrist. “Just to be clear, we’re talking about Emrys here, right?”

Arthur’s head snapped towards his friend. “Wha- how did you know?!”

“Uhm, I’ve got eyes?” Elias chuckled. “And ears?”

“Oh,” Arthur uttered, heat spreading on his face, struggling to understand how Elias had seen it, after only hanging out with Merlin a handful of times, and Arthur himself missed it.

“I agree thought, that makes it a bit trickier,” Elias said. He grabbed his bottle back and took another sip, and this time Arthur did the same.

“What do I do?” the king asked. “What would you do if you were me? I can’t experiment on him, that’s not an option.”

“Ah, that’s a tough one, mate,” Elias said. “I’ve never had these doubts myself… I’ve always known I’m straight.”

“I was certain of it too… until now,” Arthur replied, his lips curling in a thoughtful smile. He took another sip of beer before seeking his friend’s eyes in a silent request.

Elias sighed. “Okay, alright, let’s brainstorm,” he said. “First things first, have you ever tried gay porn?”

“Uhm, no.” Arthur didn’t even know there was any porn involving two men, but decided not to voice this. He’d only opened Pornhub a time or two before, out of curiosity, but never felt the urge to use it as it was intended to be used.

“Alright, then, why don’t you check that out? See if it… floats your boat.”

Arthur nodded to himself, his mouth resting pensively against the glass of the bottle. “Yes, uh, I’ll do that.”

“Or why don’t you try Grindr? Just, you know, hook up with a random guy. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The wave of disgust Arthur felt at the mental image of himself in bed naked with some faceless man did absolutely nothing to ease his doubts. “I’ll try the gay porn first,” he said eventually.

“And hey, if you want I can ask Will to message you? Maybe he can help you more than I can,” Elias suggested.

Arthur frowned. “Will? William, your flatmate?”

“Will, yes.”

“Why would Will be able to help me?”

Elias glanced at his friend as if he was joking. “Be…cause he’s gay?”

“Is he?”

“Yeah! You didn’t know?”

“No, I… I don’t think we ever talked about it.”

“Mate, he’s got a literal rainbow flag pinned to his bedroom door,” Elias chuckled. “How did you miss _that_?!”

To be fair, Arthur had been to Elias’s flat a few times, and definitely saw the flag hanging from the door, but had no idea the rainbow had anything to do with being gay. It seemed there was a googling session that just needed to be carried out. “I just didn’t, uh, connect the dots,” he said eventually.

Elias laughed, shaking his head, and took the last sip of beer, emptying the bottle. “But you know, mate, I think it’s good for you… all of this. However it ends, it’s a good step forward.”

Arthur wasn’t sure he understood. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just a couple of months ago you didn’t even consider dating, anyone, at all…” Elias explained. “It’s good to hear that you’re open to it, now. That you’re ready.”

These words hit Arthur like a splash of cold water. Of course, Gwen. His marriage to her, his promise to return to her, all things that contributed to fuelling his doubts like oxygen on fire. “I’m not so sure I’m ready… I might not be,” he said.

“It’s okay if you aren’t… what I’m saying is, it’s good that you’re considering your options.” Elias grabbed the joystick and used it to playfully hit Arthur’s shoulder. “So are we playing or not?”

The next time he had the house for himself, Arthur did try to check out some gay porn. It was far from being a good experience; watching two men going at it like that did absolutely nothing for Arthur in terms of arousal, if anything it looked weird, a bit dirty, and it generated once again a wave of repulsion.

He closed his eyes and tried to mentally replace the two random guys with himself and Merlin, but nothing happened in his body. Not a bad mental picture, but no heat either, nothing at all. Not even when he tried with some manual help, shoving a hand down his trousers.

The type of porn involving women was better, Arthur thought, still fake but a bit more polished, for lack of a better word. Not that it generated any type of urge either.

Yet Arthur wasn’t ready to give up the challenge, given how different porn was from real life anyway. The next thing he tried was Grindr, not with the intention to hook up necessarily, but just to see if meeting an actual person would make any difference at all. The main screen was a grill of some faces, a lot of headless chests, and the odd butt or explicit picture. Arthur deleted it ten minutes later.

Perhaps, he thought, technology wasn’t made for this, really. Merlin too mentioned how he preferred to meet people the traditional way.

Soon, Arthur made the decision that he wanted to kiss someone, a man, try at least. A man who wasn’t Merlin, so if Arthur ended up being repulsed by it, nobody would be hurt.

Will directed him to a nice LGBT club in Soho, and Arthur asked Elias and Bruno to go with him for support. 

The club wasn’t bad at all, per se, it looked like any other club Arthur had seen, and yet he knew the attentions he would draw here would come from other men, rather than women. It was weird, the first time a guy approached him, a fairly tall and muscular man, with short dark hair and a stubble around his chin. He introduced himself as Jon. Jon was good-looking, Arthur thought, for a guy. Pretty face, wide chest, a patch of dark hair poking out from the top of his shirt. Very manly. He found the attentions awkward and realised he had no idea how to flirt with other men, it just didn’t come natural at all to him.

Still, he went along with it, believing perhaps it would get better, at some point, perhaps it was just a matter of getting into the mindset of fancying men, getting used to it. When Jon invited him to follow him to the dancefloor, taking his hand, Arthur agreed, a bit uncertainly but determined to see the end of this.

But Jon was dancing all over him, pressing himself Against Arthur, touching his shoulders and hips in a way that made Arthur flinch uncomfortably. The king saw the kiss coming, after a while, but couldn’t help turning his head swiftly on the side to avoid it.

He just couldn’t do this.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked, his pupils dilated with arousal, his thumbs stroking Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur shook his head and took a step away. “I, uh… I’m sorry, I’m… not feeling it,” he said, feeling a pang of regret at having used somebody like this. 

At least it wasn’t Merlin.

Arthur headed towards his friends, casually seated at the bar.

“We can go, I think,” he announced.

Elias raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

“Yeah, uh… this isn’t working. Maybe I’m just straight after all.”

He kept thinking about it on the tube home, chewing on his nails. He’d been so sure he liked Merlin that way, but he couldn’t say he liked him if he didn’t like men, right? That made no sense.

What tied him to Merlin was, most likely, just intense friendship, like it’d always been, and they lived together, and shared a bedroom, so being confused was almost normal.

When he got home, he found Merlin sitting next to Aga on the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Oh hey, you back already?” Merlin asked. “I thought you were going to be out late.”

Arthur shrugged, taking a seat on the sofa too. “It wasn’t that nice.” He’d lied to Merlin about his evening, said he was going to a club but didn’t mention what type of club, and with what purpose. He hated lying to him, but in this case it was for a good cause.

He could see now, why Merlin had lied to him in the past. Sometimes telling the truth was just too hard.

Arthur spent the rest of the evening with them, until Aga left.

“Right, I’ll, uh, go brush my teeth,” Arthur said, pointing at the bathroom.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Merlin asked. “You seem a bit… weird.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean, for real… has something happened?”

When Arthur’s eyes met his friend’s, he read genuine concern there, and wished he could tell him all the truth. Maybe he could tell him a bit of it. “Uhm, yes, actually… someone tried to kiss me.”

Then something else crossed Merlin’s eyes, the concern turning to fear for a second. “Oh?”

“Yeah… she was very pretty,” Arthur explained, changing a key detail of the story. “But when the time came, I felt nothing. So I left.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” Merlin asked softly, tentatively, taking a step closer. “You wanted to feel something?”

“No, not necessarily, but… I thought I would.”

Arthur glanced down for a moment, feeling heat rise to his cheeks for having been so honest with Merlin about his feelings, his fears. When he looked up again, Merlin was right there, calm and loving and understanding.

“Don’t worry, it will come… With time,” the warlock whispered. “If you want it.”

Arthur offered a smile. “Yeah. With time.”

Merlin waited a second before offering a hug that Arthur politely refused.

*

All in all, Arthur’s favourite part of each day of his new life was volunteering at the after school club in Acton.

It was becoming more than just something fun to do in his free time to make an impact on his community. He was truly loving this, and the kids were loving him too.

As the weeks went by, he started taking home drawings or other little craft that the kids did for him, sticking the white sheets of paper to the wall above the sofa under Merlin’s amused gaze.

It took him a while to admit it to himself but Arthur had a favourite kid too. It was almost instinctive, at first, she caught his eye because she looked exactly like Merlin’s daughter, a cheeky smile and blond pigtails, but after he got to know her more during the activity, Arthur realised she reminded him of himself when he was eight years old. Sassy but sweet, very ambitious and a bit entitled. Her name was Evie.

“So you found your favourite, huh?” Aisling teased him one day.

“My what?”

“Your favourite kid.”

“I don’t have a favourite!” Arthur countered immediately, unsure whether he was supposed to tell the truth or not.

Aisling smirked. “Oh come on, I’ve been watching you! You clearly have a favourite!”

“Do you have one?” Arthur asked, almost shily.

“Of course, it’s Aidan.”

“Isn’t he Irish too?”

“He is indeed… just some nepotism, you know,” Aisling joked.

Arthur glanced down for a second before putting his feelings into words. “Evie looks like my best friend’s daughter… I think that’s why.”

When the spring term came to an end, Arthur didn’t waste any time in applying for the summer term too.

“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then?” Aisling asked on their last day before spring break.

“I’ve signed up just yesterday for the summer term, so I’ll see you then!” Arthur replied. He was about to walk away when Aisling stopped him.

“Shall we go for a quick pint? To celebrate our success,” she suggested, and the king was happy to accept. They’d never spent time together outside the volunteering hours but they got along really well, and Arthur thought it would be nice to transform their work relationship into a friendship of sorts.

“Have you ever thought of qualifying as a teacher?” Aisling asked once they were seated outside a pub with a pint each, enjoying the unusually warm spring weather.

“Not really, no…” Arthur replied. It was one of those things he would give a thought, here and there, when his mind was otherwise blank, but then always desisted. He already had a destiny, after all.

“Why not?” Aisling blurted out. “If I can ask,” she quickly added out of politeness.

“Uhm, I just…” the king struggled to think of an answer he could actually utter out loud. “I don’t even have a degree,” he said, eventually. On that one research on the subject he did, one night, he discovered teachers mostly required a university degree.

“Did you do your A-levels?”

“No, I stopped after my GCSEs.”

“There are places that offer A-levels for adults, as evening or remote courses,” Aisling said, somewhat eagerly. “Not that it’s any of my business, but… you’re really good with kids. You engage them, you listen to them, you’re creative… you’d be a great teacher. P.E., maybe.”

Arthur nodded, spinning the glass of beer in his hands, watching the liquid move around. He did some research later that night, it would be four to five years before he could become a real teacher, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go down that route. He had a quest to fulfil, he reminded himself. He needed to do whatever he was brought here to do, whatever he was born to do.

However, he couldn’t deny that as the days passed and more and more time was spent in planning the afternoons, finding new games and activities to do, the more Arthur entertained the thought of doing this as a job, one day, no more as a side hobby. To have real classrooms, maybe make an even greater impact in the lives of children, watch them achieve new goals every day and take one step closer to the people they were meant to be.

One evening, Arthur opened a bottle of beer and settled on the sofa with his brand new laptop, and those thoughts he’d been entertaining became a thorough research on education providers, and the research became a spreadsheet with different cost options, and budgeting. One institution in particular provided remote courses, fully flexible, and had also the option for a monthly payment, rather than all in one batch. Arthur believed he could afford it, and could also save enough to pay for the exams themselves, maybe picking up some extra shifts in Tesco, and maybe giving up the free classes at the gym so that he could switch to a cheaper membership. Then he could look at student loans for a bachelor’s degree.

The truth was, it’d been months since Arthur was brought back and there was no sign of upcoming wars. It might as well be years before he could fulfil his destiny, perhaps even centuries, and there was nothing wrong in doing something in the meantime.

“You have all my support,” Merlin stated after they discussed the topic.

“Yeah? You don’t think it’s stupid?” Arthur asked.

“Why would it be stupid?”

“Because I already have a destiny.”

“I have a destiny too but it didn’t stop me from studying medicine,” Merlin said. “I loved it… healing people. It kept me going… made me happy.”

The king nodded to himself, continuing his research; the idea of a future that was cloudy in his head started to become more and more vivid.

“Do you remember that time, we talked about A-levels?” Arthur asked Aisling as they tidied up the room after all the children had left.

“Yes! Are you doing it?”

“I’m… considering it. As an option,” Arthur admitted. “I love working with the kids, coming here is the highlight of my day. It would be cool to do this full-time.”

Aisling walked closer to him with a grin that covered her whole face. “Honestly, Arthur, it’s a long journey but it’s worth it. It’s the most rewarding job in the world. And you’d be great at it.”

Arthur’s smile mirrored hers. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, definitely… I’ve worked with volunteers a lot since I started here and I’ve never met anyone like you.”

A moment of silence passed, in which Arthur was about to say how much he valued her opinion and advice as a professional. However, before he could fully realise it, Aisling’s lips were pressed onto his own, soft and delicate, her hands resting on his shoulders. His eyes spread in shock until his eyelids disappeared completely, and he took a step back, gently grabbing her arms to push her away. “Aisling, I…”

Aisling seemed to become immediately aware of the mistake, her face immediately turning the same colour of her hair. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I-I-I…” she started stuttering, looking away.

“No, don’t worry,” Arthur tried to reassure her.

“I thought… God, I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry!” She covered her eyes with her hand to avoid Arthur’s gaze.

“It’s fine, really, nothing happened,” Arthur repeated, smiling softly.

“I really am sorry. I completely misread the situation,” she said, her hands now on her hips, a disappointed look all over her face. “I thought… there was something here. Between us.”

Arthur felt a pain in his stomach that resembled guilt. “I admire you, so much, as a professional… and as a friend… but I’m taken.” He wasn’t sure where that last bit was coming from. He meant Guinevere, surely, didn’t he?

There was nobody else in his life at the moment, was there?

Surely he meant Gwen.

“Oh, you are?” Aisling appeared as surprised as Arthur was of his own words. “In all these months, you’ve never mentioned anyone.”

“I, uh… it’s a new thing… it’s not even a thing, actually, not yet… but it might be, and…” he babbled, not even sure where this was coming from.

Aisling raised a hand to shush him as a shy smile appeared on her face. “It’s okay, you don’t need to justify yourself,” she said softly. “Whoever she is, she’s a lucky woman.”

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“Can we just pretend this never happened, please?” Aisling asked next. “We work really well together, I hope I haven’t ruined everything.”

“Don’t worry, nothing is ruined… nothing happened,” Arthur reassured her once more.

During the journey home in the tube, Arthur couldn’t think of anything else than what he’d said. That he was taken. That there was a new thing in his life. And while his head kept chanting that he’d said that just to get out of the situation without hurting Aisling’s feelings, and that he’d meant Gwen, really, that he was married to her, something else in his heart screamed something different.

Merlin.

Merlin was the new thing in his life.

Except he wasn’t, because after all the attempts at self-discovery, Arthur had come to the conclusion that he was straight as an arrow. He didn’t like men that way.

And yet sometimes, more and more so, he still believed he did like Merlin, in a way. Every day Arthur seemed to notice something new about his friend, a new habit, a new line on his forehead, a new word he used. Every evening, Arthur looked at him as Merlin walked around the bedroom in his underwear and a t-shirt, his current nightwear due to the warmer temperature, and Arthur watched -though not in a creepy way. He just watched Merlin’s long, skinny legs, his veiny arms, the stretch of the boxers fabric across his arse. Arthur let his eyes wonder in appreciation, and every day he thought that Merlin really was pretty. Beautiful. Attractive.

But, he thought, that meant nothing, did it? 

They had dinner together, later that evening. Arthur had planned to tell Merlin exactly what happened that day, he couldn’t keep it a secret and didn’t want to, however at the last moment he decided not to say anything.

He didn’t want Merlin to worry, to be upset; plus, Arthur reckoned, it would have been too hard and dangerous to really explain the whole situation. He felt a bit guilty, sometimes, as the list of things he was keeping from Merlin seemed to grow every day. Perhaps one day, at the right time, all would come out.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked as they sat at the small table in the living room sharing some sushi. “You seem a bit… distracted.”

Arthur realised he’d been holding his chopsticks in mid air for a bit longer than necessary. “Uhm, yeah, sorry, I…” Merlin looked so apprehensive, his eyes so sweet and eager to ease any pain. Arthur wished he could tell him everything that had been going on in his mind. “…I’m just knackered, it’s been a long day,” the king concluded eventually.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in suspicion before deciding not to pursue this further. He dipped his nigiri in the soy sauce. “I was thinking, since we’ve both been working all the Bank Holidays, what if we go somewhere nice next weekend?” Merlin suggested. “We deserve a short holiday… I for sure need one. Maybe we can both take a couple of days off, have a long weekend.”

Arthur finished chewing on his maki. “We can do that, yes,” he said. “We haven’t been to Glastonbury in ages.”

“I wasn’t thinking Glastonbury.”

The king seemed taken aback by the idea that there were other places they could go to. “Where then?”

“Paris.”

“ _Paris_?” Arthur asked as if Merlin had suggested they went to the moon.

“Yeah.”

“In _France_?!”

“…uh, yes.”

Arthur’s eyes threatened to come out of his bulbs. “You want to go to Paris, in France, next weekend.”

“That’s what I said… you don’t want to?”

“Sure but doesn’t that require more planning?” Arthur asked. “I mean, we’d be entering another country, we can’t just _go_ there like we… I don’t know, like we go to Greenwich.”

Merlin briefly frowned before realising that was probably a genuine question. “You’d need your passport, but that’s about it. We can come and go as we like,” he replied. He wanted to add _for now_ but decided instead to leave politics out of this pleasant holiday conversation.

Arthur brought another maki to his mouth as he leaned back against the chair, lost in thought. “Would we fly there?”

“No, there’s a train that takes you there in just about two hours,” Merlin replied. “Then we could find a B&B to stay. Or a hotel, if there’s anything cheap left.”

“Huh… okay,” Arthur said eventually.

“Are you sure? If you don’t like the idea, we can go somewhere else,” Merlin said. “Or nowhere at all. It was just an option.”

“No, I’m sure,” Arthur said. “I’ve never been anywhere, I trust you.” The king loved the beautiful smile that spread across Merlin’s face at his words.

“I promise you’ll love it!”

Arthur smiled too. “I trust you,” he repeated.

They spent the rest of the evening looking at deals and places to stay, with Merlin rambling on about how amazing Paris was and how this was the best time of the year to visit it; he enlisted all the places to visit, all the food to try, all the best panoramic spots. Arthur didn’t really care about museums or churches or whatever else; he pretended to listen to almost all of it while all his mind could focus on was the excitement in his friend’s voice, the way his eyes sparkled in anticipation, the bright pink colour of enthusiasm on his cheeks.

Whatever was making Merlin so happy, Arthur could hardly wait.

*

By the time the day came, Arthur had managed to work up his fair share of excitement too. He struggled to believe he was really going to visit another country, freely, without invitation or permission or anything of sorts. They were just going to get a train, a train that crossed the sea, and be there in less time it would have taken them to drive to Glastonbury.

It was insane.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Merlin said as they waited in St. Pancras station to board the train. “We were at war with each other for… ever.”

Arthur heard the underlying sadness in his friend’s voice and imagined how hard it must have been to have friends and loved ones in different countries and have to be at war with them. “I remember. I read all about it.” He tried pressing the door button to see if they would open, but boarding hadn’t started yet. “Do you think… when my time comes, do you think I’ll be asked to choose a side?”

Merlin shot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“The war… the one I’ll have to fight. I’ll have to take Albion’s side, but what if the other side is… maybe France? Or Ireland? Or, or Poland?”

“I… I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, his eyes to his shoes. “I hope not. I hope we never do that again.”

“Me too,” Arthur said softly. In London he’d met so many people, from so many places across the world, he couldn’t imagine having to lead a battle against any of them.

The train journey felt faster than it actually was, and when they emerged from the Channel Tunnel they were greeted by a tear blue sky that starkly contrasted with the grey clouds they left behind in England.

Arthur learned immediately that everything was in French now – of course it was. All the signs, the shops, the voices, he could understand none of it and let Merlin do all the talking. Arthur would never admit it out loud but he quite enjoyed hearing Merlin speak French, there was something soft and sort of sexy about it.

“Are we taking the tube?” Arthur asked once they cleared passport checks.

“It’s called _metro_ here,” Merlin replied. “But yes, we take our bags to the hotel and then we have a walk.”

Much to fuel his own pride, Arthur quickly found out he could easily read the Paris metro map as it went by the same concept of the London one: each name is a station, each colour is a different line. He was getting good at this. Still he followed Merlin as he also seemed to know what he was doing.

“I thought you booked a B&B?” Arthur asked once they got there. He’d learned that B&Bs could be fairly cheap accommodations but this one didn’t look like one.

“No… but don’t worry, my treat,” Merlin said with a wink before approaching the reception.

They carried their bags in the lift and all the way to their room on the fifth floor of the hotel building. After Merlin swiped the key card, the door opened to reveal a medium-sized room with a double bed, a desk and two chairs, and an additional door that would lead to the toilet.

“It’s… a double bed,” Arthur said, rolling his suitcase inside, eyeing the bed in front of them with a frown.

“Yeah, uh, this place is really central and they had a good deal… but no twin rooms left,” Merlin said, running a hand through his own hair. When Arthur didn’t seem too convinced, Merlin started biting his lower lip nervously. “I, uh, if you want I can go downstairs and check if they have a cot?”

“No, that’s fine,” Arthur said. “You can always sleep on the floor.” Somewhere in his heart, he was really very happy that it was a double bed. He’d sort of wanted to sleep next to Merlin for a while now but it would have been weird to ask, at home, because Arthur wasn’t supposed to want to sleep next to his best friend.

Still, he was now glad he was presented with the chance.

“No thanks,” Merlin remarked. “But you can suit yourself.”

After freshening up, they had the rest of the afternoon to begin their exploration, starting from Place de la Bastille, where their hotel was located. The late spring sun was shining, warm and bright on the roofs as they strolled down the streets and boulevards. A part from that moment in which he almost got hit by a car because he forgot to look _the other way_ before crossing the road, and Merlin had to pull him back forcefully, Arthur was intrigued by this new city, somewhat similar to London and yet completely different. A whole new world, and at the same time almost a sibling.

The best part, however, just as he’d imagined, was watching Merlin’s whole face light up as he told stories about his life here, more than a century earlier, how most things looked different back then but the soul of the city was still the same, and then some more stories about coming here quite regularly in the last few years for the odd weekend. Arthur wondered if Merlin had ever come here with a girlfriend, or boyfriend, but felt it wasn’t his place to ask.

After a long walk, some street food here and there, night time came, and Merlin took them on the metro again all the way to Trocadero, a very crowded place that granted one of the closest views on the Eiffel Tower.

Arthur had seen it in films, and in photos, and never would he have imagined a construction made of iron and bolts could look so absolutely breath-taking in person. Something about it, its grandeur, its height, the way it seemed to stand with pride on top of the whole city, made Arthur want to bow his head in a salute. He felt silly for it.

They leaned against the Trocadero parapet onto the square below, full of people sitting on the grass near the fountains. With summer solstice only a couple of weeks away, the sky was still fairly bright, the sun just below the horizon line.

“I was here when it was built and inaugurated,” Merlin said. “The tower, I mean.”

“You were?”

“Yeah… it was supposed to stay only a few years. The government were supposed to tear it down after.”

“Why didn’t they?”

Merlin shrugged. “They thought it was useful. And then it became a symbol.”

“I’m glad it’s still standing,” Arthur said, his eyes still glued to the tower in front of him, lit up in gold against the dusky sky.

“I’m glad you like it,” Merlin said, nudging the king’s elbow. 

They remained there, enjoying the view, for a few more minutes, before Arthur spoke again. “Shall we maybe sit down somewhere? Get a drink?”

“Uhm, let’s stay here some more.” Merlin glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Say fifteen more minutes.”

“Why fifteen?”

“You’ll see.”

Arthur eyed his friend with suspicion. “I doubt the tower is going to start dancing, so why can’t we have a walk around and come back later?”

“No, we’d lose the spot,” Merlin said, tapping the parapet.

When Arthur turned around and saw a mass of people starting to gather behind them and all around them, he grew increasingly curious and wondered what they were waiting for.

“Is it fireworks?” Arthur asked after a couple of minutes.

“Nope.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“You’ll find out in…” Merlin glanced again at his watch. “Ten more minutes. Ish.”

Arthur leaned closer so that he could whisper to his friend’s ear without being heard. “I _demand_ you tell me, right now, Emrys.”

Merlin pressed his lips together to repress a snicker. “You’ll like the surprise.”

“If you don’t tell me _right now_ you sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be a prat.”

Arthur gave up with a sigh, leaning on his elbows. At some point he realised he could have googled it, what happens near the Eiffel Tower at 10 pm, but at this point a part of him was enjoying the anticipation.

When the time right time came, just when Arthur was starting to lose his patience, a collective gasp filled the air as the tower started sparkling with hundreds of tiny white lights, like a diamond under the sun, contrasting against the increasingly darker blue of the night sky.

Arthur’s jaw fell open as his eyes filled with the stunning show in front of him, the whole city suddenly looking even more beautiful than it already was. In a matter of seconds, before he could stop it, his mind drifted off to Merlin – Merlin who’d brought him here, Merlin who told him to wait, Merlin who knew Arthur was going to love this.

Turning his head towards his friend, Arthur was surprised to find him staring right back at him, his lips curled in a delicate smile.

“Do you like it?” Merlin asked softly.

“I… I love it,” Arthur whispered back.

Merlin’s smile grew wider. “See, you _prat_? I told you it was going to be worth the wait.”

And right there and then, with the tower sparkling and the intermittent lights reflecting all over Merlin’s face, that Arthur was suddenly hit by the ultimate truth.

He was in love with Merlin. He just couldn’t deny it anymore.

Despite the show, he couldn’t move his eyes away from his friend’s features, his gaze darting from Merlin’s gorgeous eyes, to his high cheekbones, to his tousled raven hair sticking to his forehead at times after the sunny afternoon they spent outside. To his lips, plump and beautiful and slightly parted, lips that suddenly Arthur wanted to kiss, to brush softly with his own.

The rest of the tourists around them disappeared, the tower somehow disappeared too, nothing else mattered except the two of them.

“What?” Merlin asked. His eyes were on Arthur’s lips now, waiting on something that seemed to be about to happen, and the king wondered if he could feel it too, the pull, the electricity in the air.

Arthur was about to lean forward and close the distance between them when a woman tapped on Merlin’s shoulder, gesturing towards her phone asking him to take a picture of her and her family.

Arthur watched as Merlin complied with a smile, and just like that the bubble was broken.

There wasn’t the two of them only, there was a whole crowd of people taking pictures and videos and chatting. He wasn’t just about to kiss anyone, he was about to kiss Merlin, his best friend, the one person he couldn’t be without, he was about to cross that line without being able to cross back.

He was about to come out as bisexual, to himself, to Merlin, to the whole crowd on the Trocadero – no matter whatever happened during his failed experiments, Arthur was now unmistakably attracted and in love with Merlin.

He abruptly brought his attention back to the light show, keeping his eyes well glued there, showing his hands in his jeans pockets to avoid showing everyone that he was trembling.

He wished he could run away in fear.

He’d been about to cross the line between straight married man to gay single man, and he felt infinitely grateful that he didn’t, because it was a thought that completely terrified him now.

“Hey,” Merlin whispered once he was done with his photo duty, brushing his fingers along Arthur’s exposed forearm. “Did you want to tell me something?”

Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to look at him. “No, nothing,” he said dryly.

Merlin dropped his arm down, muttering a clearly disappointed “okay,” making Arthur’s heart clench in his chest, the king’s mind filling with all his friends making clucking sounds at him because he was definitely chickening out here, and couldn’t seem to find a way to do it any better.

The intermittent lights kept sparkling for around five minutes, which somehow felt stretched into hours for both men. They stayed in silence next to one another, both pretending to be absorbed by the show, both really completely lost in their own thoughts.

“We can go for that drink now,” Merlin said once the lights went off, breaking the silence. “There’s a wine bar ten minutes walk from here.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Arthur said, somewhat absent-mindedly. However, the second he turned around to face Merlin, he changed his mind. “Actually, I’m a bit tired, I think I’ll head back to the hotel,” he added quickly.

“What? Already?” Merlin said between hurt and disbelief. He sought Arthur’s eyes with his own but the king was avoiding his gaze on purpose. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no… Like I said, I’m just tired. It must be the time difference,” Arthur replied.

“What are you on about? There’s one hour difference with London! What’s going on?!” Merlin tried unsuccessfully to keep the panic edge out of his voice.

“Then I’m just tired,” Arthur retorted, still looking everywhere but at Merlin. “But you can stay, if you want, I can find my way back.”

“No, I’m coming with you,” Merlin said with a sigh. “We could walk a bit, at least? Maybe walk closer to the tower and get the metro a bit further down the river?... It’s such a nice evening.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that was true, the air was still somewhat warm in spite of the time and the sky wasn’t even fully dark yet. “Yeah, okay, let’s walk.”

Merlin started regretting his own suggestion only a few minutes later, when it became clear that all he was going to get from Arthur was small talk and monosyllables. He powered through the walk and the metro journey to the hotel before making any further attempts at a serious conversation.

“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” Merlin asked after shutting their room door.

“Nothing is wrong, really, I just…” Arthur replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He gathered his stuff at record speed before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Merlin alone. They were having such a good time, a great afternoon and even better evening, and then something obviously happened, but Merlin couldn’t understand what. At some point, he was sure Arthur was going to tell him something – if this was anyone else, he would have thought the look he saw on Arthur’s face was a pre-kiss look, but Merlin didn’t dare hope so much.

And then, something had suddenly changed in Arthur’s mind, taking the whole mood of the day with it.

Merlin took a shower too once Arthur was done, they exchanged rooms in silence, ignoring each other, dancing around each other at distance, until they both had to face the double bed waiting for them. 

They settled next to each other, Merlin sitting up with a book and a pillow behind his back, Arthur lying down on his back.

“Was it something I did? Something I said?” Merlin asked, putting his book down on his knees before he even started reading.

“No,” was Arthur’s reply. “It’s me, I…" He kept staring at the ceiling, wishing he could let it all out. "Okay, there is something, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay,” Merlin said.

“I’m… I’m not ready,” Arthur added in a whisper, almost ashamed of himself for being such a coward.

“Thank you.”

At those words, Arthur rolled around slowly until he was lying on his side, finally looking at his friend for the first time since the missed kiss. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For telling the truth… I’d rather know you don’t feel like talking about something, rather than have you make up excuses about being tired,” Merlin said with the hint of a smile.

“I’m sorry about that.”

Merlin nodded. “If I can ask, is this… the same thing that has been bothering you for weeks?”

“What?”

“You’ve been a bit… off, sometimes, in the last few weeks,” Merlin said softly. “But every time I asked you said you had a long day.”

Arthur looked away. “Yes… it’s the same thing.”

“Can I… make it a bit better, in any way?” Merlin asked.

“No, it’s… it’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Okay,” Merlin said. “I’ll be here, then, whenever you’re ready to talk about it.”

Arthur smiled, grateful and undeserving. He had this amazing man right here, his best friend, a brave, wise, loving person, someone who loved him. The king thought Merlin deserved someone who didn’t chicken out, who didn’t have second thoughts about kissing him.

Even now, in the privacy of their own room, Arthur’s feet were still cold, and Merlin did not deserve it.

They talked a bit more about their day, what they liked most, and then about what the plans were for the following days, what entrances they booked, which places they were willing to queue for. Soon Merlin abandoned the idea of reading and gradually slumped down the mattress, until he was lying on his back, the book on the nightstand.

The light went off a few minutes later.

“Can I come a bit closer?” Merlin asked in a whisper.

“It’s hot.”

“So no?”

“Not too close.”

Merlin grinned in the darkness as he shifted closed to Arthur, his head on the edge of the pillow, only a few inches from the king’s prone body. There was no contact between them but Arthur felt it, Merlin’s presence, soothing at first, then pleasant, then more than pleasant, and soon a familiar but forgotten type of heat was starting to burn inside him.

However, Arthur noted with a hint of concern, the heat was just in his brain; in spite of everything else, his body was not reacting in any way. For the first time, he thought there might be something wrong with _him_ after all.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this… travelling, I mean, seeing new places,” Merlin whispered, turning on his side to minimise the distance even more. “Not everyone does.”

“It’s fun,” Arthur muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow, trying not to think about his other issues for now.

“Maybe in a month or two we can take some more time off… a couple of weeks, go on a proper holiday,” Merlin added. Tentatively, he rested his arm across Arthur’s upper back, his fingers finding their way in the king’s hair. “Is this okay?”

A jolt of electricity shocked Arthur’s spine the second Merlin’s hand made contact with his scalp, as his eyes fluttered closed. “Yes.”

Merlin took it as a green light to start stroking Arthur’s short hair, softly, playing with the longer strands on the top, letting his fingers dance against his scalp.

“Where would we go?” Arthur asked, trying to maintain some dignity.

“We could drive up to Scotland… see Edinburgh, the Highlands,” Merlin suggested. “Or we could come back to France, maybe see Normandy… or drive down the Loire… there are some beautiful castles there.”

“I want to fly too, one day,” Arthur said, his voice becoming more and more slurred with sleep and the constant tingle across his scalp.

“Yeah? Then we could fly to Italy… visit Venice, Florence, Rome… or to Greece, or Spain, or Germany… or anywhere you want.”

“Where would _you_ want to go?”

“Me? Uh… I’ve seen quite a lot of Europe, and nothing much of everything else…” Merlin started, his fingers trailing down Arthur’s nape and up again. “Actually, I’ve been outside of Europe only once… I went to New York, for work, forty odd years ago… so if I could choose any itinerary at all, maybe I’d go to the US again, do a proper road trip, like they do in films, you know… or Japan, it’s such a fascinating culture, I’d do a road trip there too… but for your first flight it’s better if we keep it short.”

Once he stopped talking, and silence filled his ears, Merlin realised Arthur had fallen asleep at some point. He withdrew his arm with a satisfied smile before falling asleep himself.

They spent some pleasant days in Paris among culture, nature, and nightlife. Merlin chose a nice restaurant for their dinner on the second day, quite a fancy place where they served wine and some traditional French dishes. As usual, Arthur listened as Merlin ordered for both of them. This time, however, another piece of conversation with the waitress followed after the ordering part, something that made Merlin giggle softly and then deny what was previously said.

“Did she say something funny?” Arthur asked once the waitress left.

“She, uh… she might have assumed we’re a couple,” Merlin said. “And I told her we aren’t.”

“Oh.” Arthur looked down at his plate, the topic making his heart race just a bit faster. “Why would she assume that?” he asked tentatively.

“You know, two guys having dinner in a fancy restaurant, just the two of them, no women…” Merlin trailed off with a shrug.

“I see… so men can’t go for dinner with their best friend?”

Merlin scoffed. “Are you offended?”

“No! No,” Arthur was quick to reply. “I was just wondering, that’s all.” He wondered how many people before assumed this about the two of them. Elias did for sure, in a way.

The next day, as they strolled through the Luxembourg Gardens looking for a good picnic spot, Arthur took Merlin’s hand in his, because he wanted to, because it felt nice, if a bit sweaty, because people assumed anyway. He earned himself a confused look from Merlin.

“No?” Arthur asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Merlin’s face relaxed immediately into a smile. “Of course.”

It wasn’t the first time they held hands, but for sure it was the first time like this, with so many people around, without hiding it or trying to. Arthur felt like an actor doing a dress rehearsal, as he imagined doing this every day, not masking it as a friendly gesture, but treating it like what it was, a man holding hands with the man he was in love with.

Arthur remembered what Merlin said, that time, that this time and place were the best conditions that ever were to be gay. He could see, here and there, out of the corner of his eye, some odd person looking at them in a judgemental way, but most people they crossed paths with didn’t seem to care. If Merlin saw those looks too, he didn’t seem to care either. Arthur tried doing the same, focusing on how good he was feeling, rather than on what some stranger might think.

And then every evening they got to sleep next to one another, only a few inches apart, the sheets tangled around their hips.

When the weekend was over and they headed back to London, they found the same sky they left, mostly grey, often drizzling, the temperatures slightly cooler.

“How can the train journey be only two hours and the weather so different?!” Arthur asked as they entered their flat.

“It’s the sea, I think… not sure though,” Merlin replied. After taking the suitcase into the bedroom, he went through the mail that they received while they were away. “Hey, there’s a missed delivery notice,” he said loudly. “Did you order something?”

“Uh, it must be my Decathlon order,” Arthur replied from the kitchen. “It came early.”

“I’ll leave it for you then… I think you can still arrange a new delivery slot.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll see if they can come tomorrow.”

When night came, Arthur wished they could sleep in the same bed again but couldn’t work up the courage to ask. One thing he was sure of, though – he was in love with Merlin and had to find the way to move forward.

Like a battle. He couldn’t go into battle without a plan, without having it all mapped out in his head, the strategies, the tactics, the possible reactions from the other party, the likely outcomes.

But for sure he had to act.


	11. I'm here for a reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, here I am with the next chapter! xx  
> It's quite short compared to my usual standards but as I said it was supposed to be just the final part of the previous one. It is however a major turning point in the story!  
> Enjoy and as always thank you for reading :)

Merlin turned the key in the lock with a heavy sigh. Going back to work after a holiday, albeit a short one, was always a hardship.

“Hey, I’m home!” he announced, toeing away his shoes. “I don’t know about you, it feels like this day has lasted 36 hours!”

“Hey,” Arthur’s flat voice came from the living room.

Merlin walked there, stretching his back. “How was your day? Better than mine I-“ The second he entered the living room, he spotted Arthur sitting on the sofa, his elbows resting on his legs, his head sagging between his shoulders. Merlin frowned immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Arthur glanced at him beyond his own shoulder. “The delivery… the notice we found yesterday…” he trailed off, nodding with his head to a large cardboard box in the middle of the living room.

Merlin managed to take only one step forward towards the box before peering inside and feeling his own blood freeze in his veins at the sight in front of him. There, a sword was lying among foam peanuts, shiny in the evening sunlight, with a precious hilt made of gold. No scabbard in sight, only a sheet of bubble wrap that had been previously torn apart.

“Is this…?” Merlin asked, his voice barely a sound.

“Yes.”

The warlock swallowed dry, suddenly in need of water. He took three more steps towards the box, kneeling beside it. He didn’t even have to pick up the sword; the second he brushed it, delicately, with the tip of his fingers, he could feel its power, its magic, pulsating in waves like a beating heart.

Forged in a dragon’s breath.

It was Excalibur. Looking as new and perfect as it did fifteen centuries ago.

“It came one hour ago,” Arthur said. When Merlin finally looked up from the sword, he saw his king shared his exact same mood – shocked, confused, worried, and yet he was keeping it all inside.

“Who… who sent it?”

“I don’t know.”

“N-no… no, wait, this is a, uh…” Merlin felt like his brain was short-circuiting in panic as the room started dancing in front of his eyes. He sat down on the floor, trying to focus. “This is a courier delivery… it’s, uh, it’s-“

“It’s tracked, I know,” Arthur interrupted, his fingers mercilessly torturing his lips. “I called their customer service already… it was shipped on Wednesday afternoon from a drop-off point in Dublin.”

“D-Dublin?” Merlin’s eyes kept switching from the king to the sword. “But who sent it? There must be a name… you can’t ship anonymously… it can’t be.”

“Apparently nobody checks IDs in those places,” Arthur said dryly. “You can sign off as Santa Claus and nobody’s going to bat an eye.”

For a second, Merlin believed the shipper signed off as Santa Claus for real. “What name did they use?”

“Fog.”

“Fog?”

“Yes, fog, f.o.g.,” Arthur said. “Just that.”

“No… no, they should have more details… if the shipment was paid by card, they should have that.”

“I asked, they said they couldn’t disclose anything else… privacy issues.”

Too many emotions were fighting in Merlin’s very soul, and soon his eyes welled up with tears. “Uh, have you checked, maybe… maybe there’s a message?” Without even waiting for an answer, he took the sword out of the box and put it down on the floor, before taking out the foam peanuts one handful at a time.

“Merlin…”

The white pieces of foam were flying around, almost violently, as tears streamed down Merlin’s cheeks, burning silently.

“There’s nothing,” Arthur said, making Merlin stop, drop his hands to his knees, the floor around him covered with the white peanuts.

Everything Merlin had been dreading, there it was, right in front of his eyes. Although he knew it was coming, sooner or later, he was starting to think they had more time together, to live this amazing life they’d been living so far. There were so many things they hadn’t done yet, and now their time was running out. And while a sense of dread was settled into Merlin’s stomach, squeezing it until he could barely breath, Arthur seemed unreasonably calm, collected, and Merlin believed he knew why, and he had to be supportive, at least pretending to.

He wiped his tears on his forearm. “But hey, this is good… it’s what you wanted,” he said, trying his best to force out something resembling a smile. Arthur had been waiting for this, for the quest to reveal itself since the very first day he set foot in Glastonbury. Now they were one step closer to knowing.

However, when Arthur’s lips twitched up, it was all but happy. “What I want,” he said, sighing, the slightest tremble in his voice. “This should be it, right?” He stood up. “Finally here it is, my fate, coming to get me.” He walked aimlessly around the room, followed by Merlin’s confused gaze. “I should be thrilled, right? I should be… ecstatic, that I finally get to do what I was born to do, right?” Arthur continued, his voice increasingly unsteady. “I’m the Once and Future King, this is who I am, what I’m destined to be, the greatest king the world has ever known.” He headed to the window, crossing his arms to his chest, looking at the street outside that for months he got to call home.

“And you will be,” Merlin said.

“Well what if I don’t want to?” Arthur asked in a whisper, ashamed of his own words, his lips moving barely an inch from the window glass.

Merlin stood up, even more confused, the grip on his stomach tightening each second. “Arthur? What…?”

“No, I know, you’re right, you don’t need to tell me,” Arthur said. “I’m supposed to want this, this fight, whatever it is, I’ve been waiting for this for so long, and it’s amazing, really, that I get to save Albion and be her King.” He started pacing around the room again, his hands in his hair and then back to torturing his lips.

When he finally stopped and spun around to face Merlin, the warlock could see a veil of tears in the king’s eyes.

“But... but all I can think about are my A-levels… I was this close to signing up,” Arthur continued, the tremor now spread from his voice to his hands, his gaze on the wall of drawings behind the sofa. “And go to uni, and become a teacher, and… and keep volunteering, take the kids to the end of term, and-“ He took a deep breath, tilting his head back to the ceiling so that gravity would keep the tears in his eyes.

Merlin was frozen to the spot, his mind spinning and thinking how much he’d misunderstood his king’s feelings. How much they really shared, how both of them hated that stupid sword and wished they could burn it and pretend it never existed.

“How stupid is this, that I could go back to being a King, have my kingdom, but I’d rather teach kids how to kick a ball and do star jumps,” Arthur said, shaking his head, slumping back onto the sofa. “Sometimes I even think that’s what I was really born to do,” he added, softly, the veil of shame back in his voice.

“It’s not stupid, at all,” Merlin said immediately. “Your feelings aren’t stupid.”

“I shouldn’t be having these feelings at all,” Arthur countered, resting his head against the seatback. “They’re the wrong ones.”

Merlin tried taking a step forward and was pleased to notice his limbs were no longer detached from his brain. He was about to say something else when the king spoke again.

“And also I think I’m bisexual.”

At those words, Merlin’s brain melted again. “W-what?” he asked, his heart picking up the pace as the hint of something else made its way into his soul – hope. “You are?”

Arthur scoffed. “I mean, I don’t know, I don’t feel attracted to guys… except for one.” He raised his head to meet Merlin’s eyes. “And I’m in love with him… the greatest man the world has even known… so yeah, chances are I’m bi.”

There, in the midst of it all, the king had decided it was time to make the step, to bare his soul in front of the man he loved, hold his heart out in his hands. Arthur’s eyes were sparkling with a different light now, blue and deep against Merlin’s confused ones. Merlin suddenly believed it was all a dream, a nightmare turned into a dream he never dared hope.

“Who is he?” he asked, because his heart could not even begin to process the fact that it was all true.

If anything, he got Arthur to smile, for the first time since he came home. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you,” the king said, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

The tear that rolled down the warlock’s cheek was no longer of sorrow, as his lips were stretched by the widest grin, his whole body washed by a wave of happiness, despite everything else. He finally found the strength to walk closer to Arthur, taking unsteady steps, his hands trembling like fire in the wind, until he took a seat on the sofa next to his king.

“So, uh, if… if this man were to ask you if he could kiss you, now,” Merlin said, tentatively. “What would you say?”

In a matter of a second, Arthur’s smile turned into a sad one as he released a ragged breath. “I’d tell him that I don’t know,” he started, a quiver back behind his words. “Because I’m married, and-and… I’m not supposed to love anyone else… and this life was supposed to be temporary, and I’m supposed to be the King, her King, and…” This time, the barrier of this eyes wasn’t strong enough to hold the emotions. Before he could stop them, tears began spilling out. “And now there’s you, and it’s tearing me apart.”

As his voice died out, gradually, until it was nothing but a choke, Arthur hid his face in his hands, slouching forward, under Merlin’s shocked gaze. The second of pure happiness Merlin had just felt, when Arthur confessed his love to him, was immediately replaced by sorrow in watching his king break down like this. Merlin could feel it all, his pain, the truth of his duty and destiny fighting against his passions. The king and the man.

Just as Arthur’s shoulder started shaking, rocked by almost rhythmical sobs, Merlin draped an arm around his frame and pulled him forward, letting the king rest his head against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Merlin whispered. He was crying again himself, no longer of joy. He remembered the last time Arthur cried in his arms like this, the first day he came back to this life, with similar but reversed circumstances – two lives, one person. And just like that time, Merlin’s heart was tearing apart in time with Arthur’s sobs.

The warlock shushed softly, stroking the king’s head. “It's okay, we'll find a way,” he whispered, his own voice feeble and broken. 

Tentatively, he lifted Arthur’s chin with a finger before cupping his cheeks in his hands. The last standing piece of Merlin’s soul was crushed when he met Arthur’s beautiful eyes, usually so brave and fierce, and now red with blood and full of tears and pain and love.

The first kiss landed on Arthur’s cheek, soft and quick, barely a brush of lips, as the king’s eyes fluttered closed, while the second kiss was pressed on his forehead, right above his left brow, Merlin’s lips lingering there for a full second, soothing. Then, he rested his forehead against the king’s, waiting as he wiped away Arthur’s tears with his thumbs. Merlin could feel Arthur’s heavy breaths against his face, their lips so very close, Merlin’s stomach now fluttering with pain and anticipation alike, but he waited, eagerly but patiently, because this wasn’t his step to make.

When Arthur finally looked up again, his vision was blurry with tears, but at least Merlin was there, loving him with patience and silence, and Arthur could feel it all in his heart, the emotions, the love. He closed the short distance between them and pressed their lips together, brushing softly with urgency and fear and relief and regret, the taste salty from their tears mixed together. It only lasted two seconds, in which everything else disappeared, the sword, the flat, the world.

Then Arthur’s was back on Merlin’s shoulder and his arms wrapped around the warlock’s waist, until his sobs gradually subsided and he started gaining back control on his breathing. Merlin soothed him, one hand moving in soothing circles on his back, the other hand briefly grazing his own lips, still tingling after their kiss. Merlin no longer knew if the tears in his eyes were of pain, of joy, of love, or all of these together.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered with a sniffle, pulling back from the embrace.

“Don’t be,” Merlin said, wiping his own tears on his palms, and then his palms on his jeans. “It’s okay… I know what it feels like… to feel like you’re not in control of your own life.”

“No, I didn’t mean that… I meant this.” Arthur gestured vaguely in the space between them, sniffling again. “This isn’t how I wanted it to go… telling you, you know.” He looked up, attempting a smile. “Our first kiss.”

He still hadn’t planned it exactly, or at all, but he would have liked it to be a romantic moment, and he now regretted not having kissed Merlin in Paris when he first felt he wanted to. Merlin deserved better than this.

The warlock, however, didn’t seem to mind. “Arthur, I don’t care how it happened… It was perfect,” he stated with a loving smile. “You have no idea how long I’ve…” _Waited_. “Hoped for this… for so long.”

“I, uh, I knew, actually,” Arthur said.

“You knew?”

“Do you remember that time you came home wasted, a few months back? And I, uh, had to put you to bed?” Arthur continued, nervously fidgeting with his own hands in his lap.

“Yes…”

“You might have said something, then… that you loved me… and not in a best friends way,” he explained. “That’s also when I started wondering, about myself.”

He slowly told Merlin all about the things that happened in the previous months, the gay porn sessions, the Grindr attempts, the gay club, Aisling, Paris. Merlin listened to everything without making a sound, just nodding in acknowledgement here and there, his mind spinning to comprehend all the information that were offered to him.

“So yeah, this is… it, more or less,” Arthur concluded. “I suppose now in hindsight I should have figured it out sooner, but… well, I didn’t.”

“You never told me any of this before,” Merlin said softly, finally finding the missing piece of the puzzle, the thing that had been bothering his king for so long. “I had no idea.”

“I know… I’m sorry.” Arthur rested his elbows on his knees. “I suppose I was trying not to hurt you… I didn’t want to lead you on before being sure of my own feelings.”

“Are you now?”

“What?”

“Sure.”

Arthur exhaled silently as he stared in front of him, his gaze running along Excalibur, lying on the floor among foam peanuts like an old discarded item.

Merlin took it as an answer. He rested his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, firm but delicate, forcing the king to pull up and look at him again. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” the king said simply.

“You know I’ll be at your side, right?” Merlin said, taking Arthur’s hand in his. “Whatever you decide to do… in whatever way you want me. I’ll be here.” As much as Merlin would have wanted to keep kissing Arthur forever, and do more with him, and be his boyfriend, he was ready to accept any choice Arthur would end up making on them.

Being his boyfriend was never in the cards anyway. 

“Thank you,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin’s hand.

The warlock smirked. “I am, after all, the greatest man the world has even know.”

“Mhm, maybe I exaggerated a bit,” Arthur said with a shrug. “Maybe second best… after me.”

“ _Prat_.”

Arthur chuckled softly in the back of his throat, washed over by a wave of gratefulness and love for this man in front of him. He was about to cup his cheek and pull him into a kiss again when his eyes set on Excalibur instead, now hit by direct sunlight and reflecting it all over the room, as if it wanted everyone to think about her and her only.

Arthur’s heart sunk to his stomach again and Merlin seemed to notice. “Hey, why don’t we do something? Want to go to the cinema?” the warlock asked eagerly. “Or theatre, if we leave now we can still get to the West End in time to see a show… it would do you good to leave the house.”

“Can we just go for a walk? Get a couple of beers, sit in the park?” Arthur suggested. “It looks like it’s going to be a clear evening… maybe we could go up Primrose Hill, for a change.”

“Yeah.” Merlin smiled. “Let’s do that.” He was dying to kiss Arthur again but didn’t dare, as it wasn’t clear where they were standing on that.

They could talk about it later, though. Now Merlin just wanted to help clear his king’s mind.

They packed a few beers from the fridge, a bottle opener, a bag of crisps, and a picnic blanket, before heading to the bus stop. They sat next to each other on the upper deck, and Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his again, leaning his head on the king’s shoulder, stroking his arm up and down with his fingertips, following the lines of his veins, tracing circular patterns. Merlin still struggled to believe they kissed, for real – it’d been quick, too quick, and teary, and sad, and his brain hadn’t properly registered it the way he would have wanted to.

He couldn’t help hoping there would be more.

The sunlight was a warm orange by the time they climbed Primrose Hill, hand in hand, and settled down their picnic blanket, surrounded by dozens other couples and group of friends.

Arthur took in the sight of the London skyline, stretching beyond the park on the horizon line. From where they were sitting, he could see all of her, from the London Eye all the way to the City, places he’d got to know and learned to love. He still remembered his first walk in central London, how he hated everything, while now everything was so beautiful that he struggled to imagine himself living full time anywhere else.

London, this massive multicultural metropolis, had stolen his heart, and he belonged to her now, the same way he’d belonged to Camelot in his other life.

“What are you thinking?” Merlin asked softly.

Arthur was pulled out of his stream of thoughts. “Nothing,” he replied. “Just how nice the skyline looks from here.”

They remained there, drinking and chatting until the sun set and the park was about to close its gates, their conversation drifting towards activities they’d planned in the coming weeks, Emrys’s birthday, the Pride parade. They talked as if nothing happened, as if Excalibur hadn’t been delivered to their home address just a few hours earlier, as if it hadn’t been shipped by a very specific person, from Dublin, who didn’t even sign with their own name.

But when they got home Excalibur was there, exactly where they left it, on the floor of the living room, surrounded by foam peanuts, next to the box it was delivered in.

Once again, Arthur’s eyes landed on it like a magnet, even in the dark, all he could see as he walked past the living room was the shiny metal.

“I’ll tidy up,” Merlin said. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll put it back in the box.”

Later, after they both got ready for bed, Merlin made the move to go lie down on his own bed, like every night, until Arthur called him and told him to sleep next to him.

“If you want to, that is,” Arthur added.

Merlin couldn’t even begin to describe how much he wanted to.

They settled in the double bed, next to each other, a bit clumsily at first although this wasn’t the first time they shared the bed. Nonetheless, it felt different, Merlin’s whole body trembling with anticipation as Arthur invited him into his arms. They lay each on their side, their faces barely an inch away, their arms around each other, their legs tangled together.

Arthur nuzzled Merlin’s nose, circling it with his own, smiling as he felt the warlock shudder in his arms.

“I was thinking, since the first kiss was a bit lousy…” Arthur started, before deciding they’d talked enough already. Tentatively, he brushed his lips against Merlin’s, almost trying it out, tasting it, feeling the softness of his lips and the residual toothpaste. It was Merlin who added the pressure, kissing back more firmly, his hands tangling in the king’s hair to keep him in place, and Arthur accepted it, eagerly, smiling against the warlock’s lips.

“Better, isn’t it,” Arthur whispered, his hot breath landing on Merlin’s chin.

“Yeah,” was all Merlin could reply before diving in again, more forcefully this time.

Merlin’s whole body was responding to it, to kissing the man he’d loved for ages; it felt surreal, intense, perfect. He let his hand travel down Arthur’s back, rubbing softly, until his fingers found the lower hem of the t-shirt.

He was about to sneak his hand under it, eager to feel the king’s warm skin without any barriers, when Arthur interrupted the kiss and grabbed his wrist.

“Can we not?” Arthur asked firmly. His whole body had gone rigid in the warlock’s arms.

Merlin was taken aback by that. “Yeah… uh, yeah, I’m sorry…” He placed his hand safely on the king’s shoulder, above the fabric. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just… uhm, sorry.” He let his thumb brush softly. “Is everything okay? We don’t have to do anything at all, if you don’t want to… I can just go back to my bed.”

“No, stay, can we… can we just kiss? Just that,” Arthur whispered.

“Of course,” Merlin said, cupping the king’s cheek. “I love you.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah… same,” he mumbled. The real words still wouldn’t come out.

Disappointed flickered across Merlin’s face for a second, before Arthur resumed the kiss.

*

When Arthur woke up from a restless sleep, filled with nightmares that he hoped weren’t premonitions, it was still half an hour to go until his alarm, but he decided to get up anyway. Merlin was lying in his arms, curled up with his back against Arthur’s chest, and the king took a moment to watch him sleep, something he’d never really done before if not to wake him up in an abrupt and mean way. Merlin looked so peaceful, younger even, the shallow lines across his face having completely disappeared. Arthur kissed his temple softly before getting up, closing the bedroom door after himself to avoid disturbing Merlin more than necessary while he got ready for work.

The sky was a dawn blue, the city still almost completely silent. As he walked past the living room to head to the bathroom, like every morning, Arthur’s eyes got caught by the box, as he realised Merlin really had tidied up the night before. Arthur couldn’t help going towards the box again, pulled towards it like a moth to the light, kneeling before it and opening it slowly to reveal its content. Excalibur was still there, waiting.

Fog was waiting too, somewhere in Dublin. Now their battle was probably a few days away, a few weeks at best, whatever type of battle it would be. Arthur hoped for one he could fight and survive, and that would allow him to continue living just as he had in the past months.

Then, as the clock signed a few minutes past 4 am, Arthur’s gaze was caught by something else in the room, something that had always been there but that he hadn’t paid attention to in ages.

The wooden chest containing Merlin’s Camelot diaries, hidden in the gap between the sofa and the corner of the room. Arthur took a minute to sit down and open it. He used to do this almost every day, at first, after he and Merlin read all of them, even just to touch the paper or read an extract or two. Then, gradually, he started doing it less and less, and now he couldn’t remember when he last read any part of them.

Lying there, on top of all the diaries, was Gwen’s letter, still sealed, making Arthur feel as if he’d been punched right in the guts.

Excalibur might have been delivered to him, out of the blue, against his will. He never chose to be the Once and Future King, just like he never chose to be reborn in the twenty-first century.

But falling in love with someone else, and forgetting about his wife, this he’d been fully in control of. He’d married Guinevere, promised he’d love her forever, a promise she kept and he couldn’t. Not even a year after they parted, he stopped thinking about her.

He took the letter in his hands, the old parchment coarse against his fingertips, and took a deep breath before breaking the wax seal. The handwriting was shaky and messy, no longer the elegant curves of the earlier diaries, and the letter itself was only a few paragraphs long – Arthur imagined she must have been too weak to write any longer.

After a deep breath, he started reading.

_My beloved Arthur,_

_If you are reading this letter, it means my days here have come to an end before we could be reunited._

_The physician keeps saying I need rest, and he has given me herbs to help me sleep, but I can tell he’s trying to delay the inevitable. I am an old woman and, for that, there is no cure._

_I hope these words are finding you in good health, physical and spiritual. Albion couldn’t have hoped for a better leader in the difficult times you must be facing, and I am sure you will defeat your enemy and become the King you always were destined to be._

_As for me, I believe I was a good Queen. Our great kingdom has prospered, in recent years, crops have grown in abundance and we have been trading goods with our neighbouring kingdoms, thanks to the alliances you had started and I strengthened. Magic is back in our streets too; I remember your distrust in it, but please, believe me, magic is a force of good. Remember to trust it as you may need it in your battle._

_I selfishly hope the grandchildren of Camelot will remember me for years to come, and that it will be said of me that Guinevere was a fair and just Queen._

_One more thing I want to reassure you of, my love. Even though you weren’t here, standing by my side all these years, I want you to know I never once stopped feeling loved, and not a day has passed that I have felt alone. If I am allowed to make only one wish for you, as you are reading my words, is that you feel the same every day of your life. This is what helped me in the hardest times, and made my life so beautiful._

_I die with the only regret of not having held you in my arms one last time, and with the certainty that one day we shall meet again._

_Yours,_

_Guinevere, Queen of Camelot_

By the time he finished reading, Arthur's throat was tied up in a tight knot.

Gwen had kept feeling his love her whole life, Arthur’s presence, even if not physical, had accompanied her every step of her journey, and she hoped her love would do the same to him. What happened instead, is that Arthur forgot about her, at some point, and moved on to someone else.

Not only that, but history had also forgotten about her, relegated her to only the great King Arthur’s love interest.

The sense of guilt that crept up his bones was crushing his chest like a stone; Arthur put the letter back in the box and headed to the bathroom to wash his face. There he could pretend not to know whether the water on his face was coming from the tap or from his own eyes.

This time, he could only blame himself.

He left for work at his usual time, his legs walking on autopilot, his mind spinning like a wheel trying to figure out how to handle all these new twists in his life. At least Elias would be on shift as well.


	12. All my life I've been torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for all your kudos and comments, they're always so nice to read :) I have decided to also split this chapter in two to avoid it being too long. I promise the last one will remain as one, so the total count is definitely 14.  
> Please note that this chapter, and the next one, contain sexual situations! I've tried to keep it light because I'd rather not change the rating of the fic to Explicit, but please let me know if you think I should do so.  
> Enjoy xx

The door opened as a middle aged man walked out, politely greeting Arthur with a nod of his head that the king returned. Then, a dark-haired woman appeared from the same door.

“Arthur?” she asked with a kind smile. “Come in.”

Arthur nodded, getting up from his chair to follow her inside the studio. The room was on the small side but looked bigger thanks to the large windows overlooking the road beyond the trees.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, closing the door behind him and offering her hand.

Arthur shook it, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sweaty palms. “Pleasure’s all mine, Dr Saigal.”

“Oh please, call me Ambika. I like to be on a first-name basis with my patients,” she said. “Please, take a seat.” She gestured with her hand towards the small sofa right next to the windows. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”

“Just a glass of water, please,” Arthur replied. He took a seat where she indicated, eager for that glass of water given how his throat was drying up by the second.

While Dr Saigal filled a glass from the filtered jug, his eyes followed her around, studying her. She looked some years older than him, he reckoned, probably in her early 40s, and he immediately liked the professional vibe he was getting from her, both from her suit and from the number of books that he could count in the studio.

She handed the glass to him, her heeled sandals clicking on the floor as she walked. “Is it still raining outside?” she asked as she took a seat in her own chair, right in front of where Arthur was sitting.

“Uh, not when I arrived, no.”

“They do say it’s going to rain the whole weekend,” she said, glancing out of the large window. “But to be fair, I prefer this weather to the heatwave we had last summer! Do you remember it?”

“I, uh, I wasn’t in the country last summer,” Arthur said, taking a small sip of his water.

“It was absolutely insane, we had scorching hot weather and _no rain_ for almost two months!”

Arthur recognised her attempt at making small talk to put him at ease and he offered her a polite smile. “I was told the Central line was hell,” he said. He’d heard Merlin and his friends complain about how the Central line overheats in summer.

“I’ve heard horror stories about the Central line!” she laughed. “I’m glad I’m on the Jubilee.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to say next so he just smiled again.

Dr Saigal crooked her head to one side, glancing at his legs before focusing on his face again. “Is this your first time? With a therapist.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.” He wondered how she’d guessed that, before noticing his left leg was bouncing up and down, giving away his nervousness.

“This hour is just to get to know each other, to see how we can work together,” she explained. “And for me to understand what you are looking to get from this time, whether that’s just a one off or if you’re looking to start a journey together. Is that okay?”

Arthur nodded again. They covered the basics first, who he was, where he was from, what he did for a living. She scrabbled some words on her notebook every time he gave an answer.

“So, Arthur, I would now like to get into the reason that brought you here,” Dr Saigal said softly, turning her notebook on a previous page. “On the booking form, you ticked ‘grief’ and ‘relationship issues’.” She paused for a second, searching his eyes. “Would you like to tell me more about it?”

His leg was still bouncing. He willed it to stop as he put his thoughts together. “I, uh… my wife died,” he said, without circling too much about it. “A few months ago… well, almost a year now.”

Dr Saigal quickly wrote down a few words. “First of all, I am very sorry for your loss,” she said. “Losing a spouse is one of the most tragic events we can experience in our lives, even more at such young age.”

Arthur lowered his eyes, his hands joined together on his lap.

“What was her name?” she asked again.

“Guinevere.”

Dr Saigal didn’t note that down. Instead, she smiled warmly. “Arthur and Guinevere… quite the pair.”

He couldn’t help smiling too. “Yeah.”

“Would you like to tell me more about what happened?”

Arthur went on to tell her the little story about the car accident, the same one he’d told all his friends, because in spite of the doctor-patient confidentiality, he surely couldn’t tell her the truth.

“It was really hard, to wake up… knowing she was gone but I was here, without her,” Arthur concluded, reliving his first few days back to life. “At first I wanted to go back to her, I thought about her all the time… I just felt guilty, constantly… and miserable.”

“Going back one second, you said you wanted to go back to her,” Dr Saigal said. “Have you experienced suicidal thoughts?”

“Uhm… I suppose so, to some extent,” Arthur said. “I never acted on them… only once, I almost did…” He thought back of that first morning. “But, uh, then I didn’t.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“No,” Arthur stated, more firmly this time. “Not anymore… and, uh, I…” His leg was bouncing up and down again. “This is going to sound stupid, uh…”

“There are no stupid thoughts in this room,” Dr Saigal was quick to reassure him. “Your feelings are valid, Arthur, all of them.”

“I-I just… I feel guilty about it. Terribly. That I’m not in that space anymore,” Arthur said eventually. When she said nothing, he continued. “I still love Gwen, and I miss her… but not as much.” As she kept writing, he decided to add one more piece of information. “There’s someone else now, in my life.”

“A new partner?”

“Sort of, I mean… we’ve been friends for ages. It’s very recent… we’ve only… I only realised my feelings very recently.”

“It’s a good thing, Arthur, that you’ve opened up your heart again,” Dr Saigal said softly. “Would you like to tell me more about this new person? What’s her name?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a guy,” Arthur said. It still felt foreign to say.

“Oh, apologies,” she said with a smile. Arthur expected her to write something down but she didn’t. “What’s his name, then?”

“Emrys… he’s my best friend… he was friends with Gwen too.”

“So he is aware of your situation?”

“Yes, fully.”

Dr Saigal nodded. “So, Arthur, if I’m not wrong you said you’ve been feeling guilty because you’re no longer missing your wife as you used to. Would it be right to say this new development with Emrys has intensified this sense of guilt?

“I… yes, I think so,” Arthur replied. “I fell in love with him, and I-I want to be with him… but there’s this part of me that feels like I’m cheating on Gwen. That it’s not fair to her that I’m moving on… and she… well, she can’t.” _And even when she could, she didn’t_ , he wished he could have added.

“And how would you define your relationship with Emrys?” the doctor asked.

“I, uh…” Arthur hesitated. He couldn’t even tell if it was a relationship yet, or some snogging only. “I’m not sure… as I said it’s very recent. I’m not sure, really.”

“Have you and Emrys been intimate yet?”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up but he hoped it didn’t show. “Uh, no. Not yet.”

“It’s okay, it’s normal to take things slowly when-“

“I can’t,” Arthur blurted out. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t… I don’t…” His leg was back to bouncing as his fingers tortured his mouth. “I can’t seem to…” He cleared his voice. “Since she died, I haven’t been able to…” He could feel her eyes on him, on his face, reading all of his body language.

“Have you been experiencing erectile disfunctions?”

Half of him sighed in relief when she said it, so he didn’t have to, and the other half could feel his whole face burn up now. He nodded quickly, avoiding her eyes.

“Arthur, I’m going to draw a conclusion now, and you can tell me if I’m right or wrong,” Dr Saigal said, glancing up and down her notebook page. “Would it be correct to say that this is the reason that brought you here? Your wish to find closure with Guinevere, and move on to live your new relationship with Emrys?”

Once again, Arthur hesitated. He thought of Gwen, of her letter, of her wish for him that he could always feel her love; then, he thought of Merlin, of all the things they lived through, of how much Merlin deserved to be loved openly and without reservation, without guilt.

Perhaps there was a way to move forward, and perhaps this therapy was the way to find it.

“Yes,” Arthur replied eventually. “That’s a… fair assumption.”

Dr Saigal smiled again, warmly and politely, like she had throughout the session so far. “Well, I think it’s a great place to start.”

Arthur released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

*

He kept thinking about that session for hours, while on the tube home at first, then while volunteering that afternoon. Since Excalibur was delivered to him, just a few days earlier, he did his best to enjoy his time with the kids – he tried to have more fun, to indulge them more, to think more about being with them, rather than to plan activities. Every time he waved them goodbye, at the end of the day, he could never shake away the dreadful feeling that it could have been the last time he ever saw them.

Merlin phoned him later that evening as Arthur was about to pop some Tesco Chicken Korma in the microwave for dinner.

“Oh hey!” Arthur answered with a smile. “Are you all done with your shift?”

_“Hey, yes, sorry I haven’t called you earlier, it’s been a bit hectic today. How are you, how was the session?”_

“Uhm, it was okay, it felt like... like taking a weight off my chest.”

_“Yeah? That’s good, that’s what therapy is supposed to be for.”_ Merlin sounded pleased. _“What did you talk about?”_

Arthur watched as his food spun. “A few things,” he said. “It’s a bit weird to tell you on the phone.”

_“Do you want to come here? It seems quiet for now, we could walk to Pret and get a sandwich.”_

“No that’s okay, I just started cooking.”

Merlin chuckled softly on the other side. _“I can hear the microwave from here.”_

“That counts as cooking,” Arthur said defensively.

_“Heating up a ready meal from Tesco? It really doesn’t… sorry hold on a sec.”_ Then Arthur heard something in the background, a couple of other voices. _“Ah, sorry, I’ve got to go, another patient just arrived… I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”_

“Of course.”

Just as they closed the call, the microwave beeped, and Arthur stirred the food before putting it back in. He was glad both of them were on the night shift at the same time that night. While he usually didn’t mind spending the night alone, and often enjoyed it, even, he was happy he didn’t have to tonight; there were too many things he wanted to talk about, with Merlin, sleep would have mostly eluded him anyway.

Night shifts at his Tesco were a bit surreal, as the neon lights shined just as they did at noon, but there were no customers, mainly lorries coming in with fresh produce and other lorries ready to be filled and to leave for early morning home deliveries. Arthur didn’t mind. It was quiet enough to breathe, and have a chat with some colleagues, and help train some newbies, yet not quiet enough to leave him completely alone with his thoughts.

The rain was tapping softly on the pavement when he finally left and the morning shift people arrived, the sky was bright but thick with grey clouds. Early sunrises were a bliss when he was on the morning shift, but dreadful now that he just wanted to go home and take a quick nap before having to face the day, while he was made to feel as if he’d missed the night time completely. Nevertheless, as he finally kicked off his shoes and entered the bedroom, looking exactly as he’d left it, the bed didn’t look any less appealing; he laid down on his back, both hands under the pillow, and let himself slip into oblivion.

He came back to his mind again as he heard a key turn into the lock, and then a set of familiar noises that signalled Merlin had come home too. It was almost a melody, one Arthur had come to learn by heart – the door closing, the backpack hitting the floor, the flush of the toilet, the water running in the kitchen sink as Merlin put his lunch containers to soak for a couple of hours.

Then his footsteps approached the bedroom and a zip flew open, followed by the distinctive sound of clothes rustling. A minute later, the mattress dipped under his weight as the warlock crawled on it until he could rest his head on the pillow, face to face with his king.

“Morning,” he whispered.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” he whispered back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

Merlin didn’t waste any time, closing the distance between them and pressing their bodies together before kissing Arthur, softly but eagerly at the same time, his hand cupping the king’s cheek. “I still can’t believe I can just kiss you anytime I want,” he said against his lips.

Arthur groaned, pretending annoyance. “You woke me up.”

“Shut up, you were awake already.”

This time it was Arthur who sought Merlin’s lips with his own, enveloping the thinner man into his arms and eliciting a sigh out of him as he pulled him even closer. The kiss was sleepy and a bit sloppy, their arms lazily roaming around each other’s body, softly caressing and exploring.

It was a matter of a mere minute before Merlin felt his dick wake up in his boxers, growing stiffer each second, at each stroke of Arthur’s tongue against his own.

Merlin loved this arrangement, the past few days had been more than enough to make him feel blessed and he could have kissed Arthur forever, and done nothing more with him, and it would have been nothing short of perfection, because not even in his wildest dreams had Merlin thought they would actually, really get to this point.

However, while his old soul was the happiest it’d ever been, his current body was still that of a young man in his 20s. A body that, in the past few days, had been constantly horny; every time Arthur kissed him or touched him or at this point even looked at him, Merlin would immediately feel his dick respond to the situation and demand some attention of its own. The silent wanks in the shower alleviated the physical pressure momentarily, but the arousal was ready to return stronger than ever at the next occasion.

Every time, Merlin had to take a deep breath and remind himself that he wasn’t a meat slab on two feet, but a man who cared deeply about Arthur and his situation, and who didn’t want to ruin the mood or make Arthur feel any less than absolutely perfect. He knew that, eventually, this too would be worth the wait.

Like he did quite a few times before, Merlin interrupted the kiss somewhat abruptly and turned away on his side, grabbing Arthur’s forearm to force the king to be his big spoon. Arthur did, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist to pull him against himself, nuzzling his nape, making the warlock shudder.

“You smell like hospital,” Arthur whispered, grinning against Merlin’s neck, his hot breath tickling the warlock’s sensitive skin and sending another shiver down his spine.

Merlin licked his lips, trying to ignore the throbbing heat. “So, uh, what about the session?” he asked, hoping the conversation would be enough of a distraction.

As he absent-mindedly grazed Merlin’s arm with his fingertips, stroking up and down, Arthur provided a short summary of the main topics he’d discussed the day before with Dr Saigal.

“She talked about closure a lot… how I need to find closure before I can fully move on,” Arthur said eventually.

“Okay.”

“She also said that’s most likely why I can’t…” he trailed off, his hand coming to a halt around Merlin’s wrist. “Well, you know.”

Merlin nodded.

“She said it’s most likely purely psychological,” Arthur continued. Without thinking, he planted a closed-mouth kiss on the back of the warlock’s head, right below his hairline.

“Right, uhm, so what… what are you going to do? Are you going to book more sessions?” Merlin asked.

“I can if I want… although she said it has to come from me… the closure, I mean,” Arthur said. “She can help me, but she can’t do the work for me.”

“Yeah, of course not.”

“I just have no idea… what to do.” Silence fell for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the rain tapping on the window. “How did you do it? How did you find closure?”

“Me?” Merlin asked, a frown across his face that Arthur couldn’t see. “Closure from what?”

“You know, from… your previous partners.”

“Oh.” Well, at least his erection was flagging a bit now. “I suppose it was different… uhm, I always knew, from the moment I met them, that I would have to move on at some point.”

“I see.” Arthur’s thumb drew eight-shaped figured above Merlin’s wrist, across his round bone and soft hairs. “Are you thinking the same now? With me?”

“With you? Why, what…?”

“I mean… even if I survive this fight, and we can be together… you’re still immortal, aren’t you?”

Merlin’s whole body stiffened as he turned his head to glance beyond his shoulder, his heart dropping to his stomach. “Can we, uh, not talk about this? Please?” It was a line of thought that he’d relentlessly buried underneath everything else, under all the joy and the surprise and the uncertainty even – that no matter how long Arthur’s life ended up being, it would come to an end, sooner or later, while Merlin’s wouldn’t. And then there would be grief, and pain, and loneliness, but still no escape, and nothing in the back of his mind to look forward to.

Arthur kissed the back of his neck again, dragging his lips a few inches downwards before placing another kiss there. “You’re right, I’m sorry… let’s not talk about this.” He felt Merlin’s body gradually relax in his arms.

“Thanks,” Merlin whispered, bringing his focus back on Arthur’s solid, warm weight pressed against his back, his mouth on his neck. There would be time to worry about anything else.

“There’s something else the doctor mentioned today that I wanted to tell you about,” Arthur whispered.

“Yeah? What?”

“She said there are some things we can try, to… she used the words ‘be intimate with each other’,” Arthur said. “That can still be nice, even while I’m… like this.”

That perked up Merlin’s interest. “Did she suggest anything specifically?”

“She said we could give each other a massage… or maybe take a bath together, or…”

“I like the bath idea,” Merlin said promptly.

“You do?”

“Yeah!” The idea of getting to snog Arthur while wet and naked was a very appealing scenario. “What if we take some time for us today? We take a bath, then we could go out for dinner… or cook something here, depending on how we feel. What do you think?”

“I have a basketball game planned in the afternoon, if it stops raining… we can do this evening?” Arthur suggested.

Merlin nodded. He also had a swimming session booked in the afternoon. “Let’s do in the evening, yes.” He turned his head again to silently request a proper kiss, and Arthur lifted off slightly to comply. “Can we nap a bit now? It’s been a wild night.”

Arthur snuggled in as close as he could.

*

When the time came, Arthur followed Merlin to their bathroom and let him draw the water at the right temperature.

“And… look what I got for us earlier,” Merlin said, his eyes twinkling with excitement, as he took a small paper bag out of his cabinet and put it in Arthur’s hands.

The king stuck his hand inside and took out a grainy ball, around the size of a baseball, striped in blue and white. “What is this?”

“It’s a bath bomb,” Merlin replied. “You put it in the water and it fizzes and it gives the water a nice colour!” He went out of his way after the swimming session just to go and get it, he hadn’t used one in ages.

Arthur rolled it between his fingers. “We just couldn’t bathe like men, could we,” he said, shooting Merlin a snarky look.

“Maybe next time we can bathe in mud instead,” Merlin joked. “Is that manly enough for you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but his annoyance was betrayed by the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Just water would have done.” He considered his own words for a second. “Maybe some soap too.” He dropped the bath bomb inside its bag and handed it back to Merlin.

“Plus it’s blue,” the warlock added. “So it’s for boys.” He proceeded to close the tap and gently dropped the bath bomb in the water with a pleased smile.

Although Arthur was a bit sceptical at first, he couldn’t deny it was quite mesmerising to watch the bomb fizz and gradually dissolve in the water, dancing around the tub and leaving behind a streak of blue and white colour, filling the air with a frankly pleasant flowery smell.

Then Merlin was grabbing his t-shirt by the collar and pulling it over his head, uncovering the pale skin of his torso, and Arthur’s breath involuntary hitched in his throat, almost a gasp, one that Merlin picked up immediately.

“Are you okay?” the warlock asked, dropping his t-shirt to the floor. “We don’t have to go in if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” Arthur said firmly. “It’s just-“

“It’s just us, yes?” Merlin’s voice was soft now, and caring, his eyes leaving the bomb for a moment to focus on Arthur only. “No pressure, no expectations, just the two of us having a bath, nothing more than that.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Arthur repeated. “I’ve just realised I’ve… never seen you naked.”

“What, really?” Merlin struggled to believe his ears as he mentally went through the last few months of their lives together, sharing the same bedroom. Now that he thought about it, he never really walked around naked. “Never?”

“Not fully.”

“Not even… I don’t know, back in Camelot?” Merlin remembered very few details, but surely there must have been some instances in which he was naked around Arthur, maybe a hunting trip or something.

However, the king shook his head again. “Not that I remember,” he said.

“Okay, right.” Merlin put on his thinking hat again, suddenly feeling very much self-aware, as he failed to recall other instances in which the first time he was seen naked by a lover wasn’t in the midst of passion. “Well then, I’ll just do a little strip for you, shall I,” he said eventually.

Arthur barely had the time to ask what it was about that Merlin was starting to do what looked like an awkward dance, his hands balled in fists in front of his bare chest, moving up and down as if to punch the air, as his whole body swung along.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked, half amused and half confused.

“I’m dancing,” Merlin replied as he was stating the obvious.

“…is that dancing?”

“It looks weird because there’s no music.” Merlin glanced around the room, looking for his phone, before realising it was probably left somewhere else. Consequently, he decided the best next step was to start singing. “ _I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright I need you baby…_ ”

It was on the edge of terrible, and very much off-key, but it made Arthur burst into a deep chuckle as he watched his friend goofily move his body around, rolling his shoulders, before casually hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his joggers and push them down, letting them pool around his feet.

“… _to warm a lonely night, I love you baby, trust in me when I say_ …” Merlin stepped out of his trousers, trying to keep up the groove under Arthur’s amused gaze, making the king laugh a little louder as he jumped around to take off his socks without losing balance.

Merlin kept singing, and awkwardly dancing around, but when his boxers slid down his legs too, Arthur wasn’t laughing anymore; Merlin’s face had transformed too, a new light appearing underneath the cheeky, playful grin he’d been holding until now, as he spun around to give Arthur a complete view of his body.

_“…oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay, and let me love you…”_

The king’s tongue darted out to wet his lips while his eyes explored Merlin’s body undisturbed, focusing on his broad shoulders and the way his muscles contracted and twitched with the dance moves; then Arthur’s gaze travelled lower, down the warlock’s spine, almost counting the vertebrae that seemed to poke out of his skin, before settling on the delicate curve on his lower back that gave way to his bottom, soft and round and very much looking delicious. Even the dance looked more sensual now, with Merlin rotating his hips around, letting his bum stick out a little bit more for Arthur’s appreciation.

_“… oh baby, let me love you…”_ Merlin’s voice had gone down a tone with his growing arousal under his king’s explorative gaze, one that Merlin couldn’t see but could feel on his skin like fire. “…and now I’m gonna get into the tu-uh-ub,” he sang to the song’s tune as he stepped into the tub filled with water, lowering down until he was fully sitting. Then he looked up at Arthur, grinning, pretending not to be horny again because he’d promised him this wouldn’t be sexual.

Still, when he finally met Arthur’s eyes again, he was pleased, and a bit relieved, to see the king’s pupils were wider than usual.

“So? Enjoyed the show?” he asked.

Arthur took a second to answer. Had Merlin been a girl, he would have told her that she was absolutely gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, or any other adjective to show appreciations of her form. Merlin was all of those. He was thin, skinny even, and yet his muscles were perfectly defined and could be easily traced with a pencil, his milky skin scarcely covered by black hairs in some precise points.

“Your singing skills are even more appalling than your dancing skills,” Arthur said instead, because although he would have wanted to compliment him, he had no idea how to. He might not have had problems with snogging, but he still struggled to interact romantically with Merlin.

“Still a giant prat I see,” Merlin commented, letting himself lean his head back against the tub edge. “Come on, hop in.”

It was Arthur’s turn now, to take off his clothes; even if Merlin had already seen him fully naked a million times, he still allowed himself to watch and appreciate the sight. It’d been a while, after all, and the signs of the gym training and all the sports were evident on the king’s body, looking stronger and more beautiful than ever. They weren’t even both in the water yet but Merlin’s cock was already straining to be touched; instead, as Merlin noted, Arthur was completely unaffected in this sense. It was perhaps good, Merlin thought, that Arthur decided to sit on the opposite side of the tub, rather than behind him.

Even if they both sat up straight with their legs drawn to their chest, to make space for one another, the tub was still quite small to accommodate both of them.

“This is… tight,” Arthur commented as the water pretty much only covered his feet and private parts, while the good part of his knees and chest was left exposed.

“Uhm, a bit, yeah,” Merlin agreed, being in the same situation. “Maybe we can… do it differently, wait…”

A minute followed in which they tried to manoeuvre their long limbs while muttering instructions and apologies, until they ended up with their legs spread around each other.

“Better?” Merlin asked.

“Bit better.”

Merlin decided not to mention how he was finding this as awkward as it was hot, especially as Arthur casually started stroking his calf, from the ankle all the way up to his knee, lingering in that soft spot behind the joint, and the warlock was reminded that all men who previously stroked his calves while sitting in between his spread, bare legs would then proceed to lift said calves onto their shoulders and plough his arse. 

“So, uh, did you want to go to Glastonbury next weekend?” Arthur asked, the skin of Merlin’s legs rough under his fingertips.

“Glastonbury? No why?”

“It’s summer solstice… I’ve read that there are some old religion rituals around that area… maybe you wanted to go.”

“Nah, not really, I haven’t taken part in those in ages.”

“How come?”

Merlin shrugged. “There’s nothing there… nothing alive anyway. Those stones are just stones.”

“I thought there might be some magic left.”

“It’s been all drained away a long time ago,” Merlin said, his memory briefly flying back to the times in which the whole world was alive.

Arthur bent over to kiss his kneecap, bringing the warlock forcefully back from his thought with a shock of electricity.

“But-but we can go if you want… I’m working Friday but we can just do Saturday and Sunday,” Merlin was quick to add. His hands twitched against his own stomach.

“No, that’s okay… I, uh, I was actually thinking I should go to Dublin,” Arthur said.

Merlin frowned. “Dublin?”

“Yeah, I mean… someone there knows me, maybe they’re waiting for me.” This time it was Arthur’s mind that drifted off to Excalibur, still in the box in a corner of the living room where it’s been for almost a week. “And even if they aren’t… I just need to try, you know. Go there and see what happens.”

“And you want to go next weekend?”

“Possibly, yes, if it’s not too expensive… the sooner the better.” Arthur’s came to a stop behind Merlin’s knee. “I can go alone, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Merlin was tempted for a moment to try and dissuade Arthur, convince him that there was no reason going there would change anything, but the focus he saw in his king’s eyes made him desist before even trying. “No, I’ll come with you… you know I’d follow you anywhere,” the warlock said eventually. “Plus it would be your first flight, I can’t leave you alone, can I? You’d just be sick and cry the entire time without my support.”

He chuckled as Arthur slapped his calf. “Shut up.”

Merlin grinned, wishing they weren’t in this stupid position so he could lean forward and kiss his king.

It seemed like Arthur could read his thoughts. “Look, I know we’ve only been in here for a few minutes, but my legs are cramping a bit.”

“Thank God you said that, my back is killing me!” Merlin said almost sighing in relief.

“Shall we get out?”

“Wait, what if I sit on your same side?” Merlin suggested, gesturing the space that was currently empty in between their legs. “Like here, but against you? Does that make sense?”

Arthur couldn’t deny that holding a fully naked Merlin in his arms was a very appealing idea. “Suit yourself.”

Some water splashed over the edge of the tub as Merlin found a way to turn around in the tight space without having to get out and in again. He then shifted backwards until he was sitting between Arthur’s bent knees, swallowing dry as his back came into contact with Arthur’s muscular chest.

Merlin let his head drop back against his king’s shoulder, smiling in content. “This is even better,” he said, wiggling his toes against the opposite edge of the tub.

“Yeah, it is,” Arthur whispered, his lips drawing the words against Merlin’s temple before his arms came to enclose the warlock’s leaner body, one arm across his chest and one lying on his waist, that Merlin promptly covered with his own.

While Merlin closed his eyes, Arthur let his gaze wander some more, down Merlin’s long, pale neck, then onto his shoulder and chest, covered in a dusting of dark curly hair, his pink nipples poking out, perky and hard, before the blue water covered everything else.

Arthur could feel his own arousal grow, in his head and soul; Merlin’s neck was calling his lips in a silent invite and the king’s hand was resting just below that pebbled nipple - Arthur couldn’t deny how much he wanted to move his thumb just a tiny bit, just enough to stroke it side to side and see if it would elicit a reaction of any kind.

And yet, without any need to double check by looking or touching, Arthur knew that his own dick was lying limp between his legs, completely disconnected from his brain.

He let his hand wander a few inches down Merlin’s side, feeling the soft skin stretched above his ribs, making Merlin squirm in his arms as Arthur’s fingers ran past each ridge like the strings of a harp.

“It tickles,” Merlin chuckled, his eyes fluttering open.

Arthur stilled his hand. “I could count your ribs if I wanted to.”

“I believe I’ve got twelve per side, twenty-four in total,” Merlin stated, glancing up to meet his king’s eyes. “I’m fairly sure you’ve got the same number.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, torn between insulting Merlin for his smugness and just find a way to remove that smirk from his stupid face.

The latter won, and Arthur bent his neck down to brush his lips against Merlin’s exposed neck, the first kiss landing right under his ear, and his mission of getting Merlin to shut up quickly accomplished. The warlock sighed, softly, almost silently, as he rolled his head to the side to grant full access.

“Does this tickle too?” Arthur asked without moving away from where he was.

“N-no, this feels nice,” Merlin stuttered, trying to maintain his mind focused and his body under control.

His resolutions were quickly abandoned as Arthur’s mouth got back to work, kissing and licking down his neck and then back up again to nibble his earlobe, pulling it between his teeth until Merlin gasped and his eyes fell shut again. He reached with one arm around Arthur’s head to keep him in place, while the other landed on the king’s outer thigh.

Arthur glanced down his lover’s body, at his nipples, looking even harder than before, as he felt his chest raise and fall quickly under his arms. Then Arthur lifted his lips off Merlin’s neck and cupped his cheek, turning his face towards him and finding his mouth instead. Merlin moaned in that kiss, getting completely lost in it, playing and dwelling with Arthur’s tongue while his hand squeezed the king’s thigh as a life support.

Soon enough Merlin was desperate for more, and his mind kicked in to remind him there was nothing else coming, this was it, all of it. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

“Arthur, uhm,” he started, panting. “Can we… have a break?”

Arthur was hit with a wave of disappointment as he was forced to face his own shortcomings. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, forcing out a smile, rubbing his nose against Merlin’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit, uhm… I just need to slow down a bit.”

“Do you want to get out, get dressed?” Arthur asked.

“That would be good… I was getting a bit cold anyway.” Then Merlin shot out of the tub at record speed, grabbing the towel he’d hung nearby to wrap it tightly around his hips, doing everything possible not to face Arthur while doing so. He knew the king was aware of Merlin’s state of arousal, but wanted to avoid showing him the full picture.

It’d been like this for a number of days now, that definitely felt longer than they actually had been. The two of them kissing, innocently at first, then more passionately, then soon the petting would start, the rubbing and stroking, and then Merlin had to pause, either turning around in bed, or pretending he had something to do in the kitchen, or toilet, any excuse he could find to take a break and draw a few deep breaths until his body was again fully under control. Obviously being fully naked in the tub this time had made things even worse.

“Was this a bad idea? The bath, I mean,” Arthur asked.

Merlin spun around to find Arthur tying his robe around his waist, the water draining from the tub. “No, absolutely,” Merlin replied firmly. “It was amazing… I loved it.” He walked closer to Arthur, smiling reassuringly, before placing his hands on the king’s hips. “We could bathe in mud for real and I’d still love it, with you.” And he did, truly, as he always did with things that had been dream material for ages before.

To prove a point, Merlin closed the distance between and pressed their lips together again, confident that the two layers of cloth between them would keep him from feeling too much, too fast. As Arthur’s tongue made its way into the warlock’s mouth, it became evident that this wasn’t the case, and soon passion engulfed Merlin’s body again like a flame.

Panting, he leaned his forehead against Arthur’s. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Soon they were rolling in bed, relentlessly torturing each other’s lips, Merlin’s dick tenting his towel almost painfully. He left Arthur’s mouth to trail down his throat, mapping all those spots that made his king’s breath hitch, suckling on those that made him groan, while Arthur’s hands rubbed his back. Then Merlin continued his journey even further down until he nipped at Arthur’s clavicle, flavouring the skin there as his hands came to settle on his chest, pushing the robe aside to reveal the muscles here.

Merlin forced himself to stop for a second, seeking Arthur’s eyes, pleased to see they looked just as hungry as his own. “Can I touch you?” Merlin asked, his mind dizzy with desire.

A shadow flickered across Arthur’s face. “Merlin, I’m not… I’m not sure I-“

“Please,” Merlin whispered. “Let me try, just once… we-we haven’t tried yet, maybe it’s all you need.” The king still looked unconvinced. “And if you want me to stop, you just say so and I stop, immediately.”

After a moment of uncertainty, Arthur nodded. He trusted Merlin with his life, and the warlock just looked so eager. “Okay, go ahead.”

Merlin’s eyes were sparkling again. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Merlin dove back in, untangling the tie that kept Arthur’s robe closed around his body, and let it fall open, baring all of Arthur under him. The warlock took a second to appreciate the beauty in front of him, something he’d seen many times before and longed to touch even more often, now completely at his own disposal. He quickly resumed the trail of kisses from where he left it off, at the base of Arthur’s neck, and continued his journey down to the king’s chest, his lips tracing the contours of his taut muscles, savouring the golden skin and revelling in the soft sigh that were escaping Arthur’s lips. Merlin’s hands followed his mouth across Arthur’s chest, lingering for a second over his nipples, teasing them into peaks, before heading down to the final destination, while the warlock’s lips found their way to the king’s throat again. Arthur’s hips bucked when Merlin’s hands made contact with his penis, lying flaccid on a nest of golden curls, still damp from the bath. Merlin wrapped his fingers around it, covering all of it with his palm; he tugged slightly, rubbing it in his hand, squeezing the tip, imagining for a moment that his own cock was receiving the same treatment instead of straining untouched beneath his towel. Still, Merlin kept focusing exclusively on Arthur, his mouth suckling on his throat, his hand on his dick.

“Merlin, wait, stop,” came Arthur’s request, and Merlin obliged immediately, still dazed with passion but suddenly concerned. When he looked up, he noted his king’s eyes were no longer hungry.

“S-stop?” Merlin asked, seeking confirmation, his hand slowly climbing again up Arthur’s torso.

“It’s not working,” Arthur stated.

Merlin glanced down to see minimal results were achieved, probably due more to the manual stimulation than anything else. “I can try something different,” he said quickly. “I can try a prostate massage, maybe that works better.”

But Arthur shook his head and pulled his robe closed around his body. “No, there’s nothing to try, it’s already humiliating enough as it is,” he said drily, sitting up and forcing Merlin to move away. “I’ll just get dressed.”

And with that, he got up and headed to the bathroom, leaving the warlock alone on the bed, the arousal replaced by guilt and frustration. Merlin let himself flop back against the pillows, his breathing still laboured. He felt bad for Arthur, yes, and defeated, but also angry, because Arthur was a giant prat who wouldn’t even let him exhaust all the options and would leave him there, alone, frustrated, horny.

When Arthur came back, a minute later, he had his boxers and t-shirt on. He sat on the edge of the bed while Merlin hadn’t moved one inch.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered, his head down. “I never wanted it to go like that.”

He looked like a puppy who’d just been kicked, and Merlin could feel all his anger dissolve in the air. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, rolling closer to Arthur, covering the king’s hand with his own. “I said no pressure and no expectations, and then I did the opposite.”

Arthur attempted a smile as be brought Merlin’s hand to his lips, kissing it delicately. “Thank you for trying, though.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

Arthur glanced up and down Merlin’s body, his hips and legs still covered by the towel. “Is there… anything I can do, for you?” he asked tentatively. “My hands still work.”

There was a moment in which Merlin would have jumped around at the suggestion, but right now it just didn’t feel right. “Just come back here and kiss me,” he said eventually.

Arthur did, slowly at first like they always started off, but soon the kissed moved down to Merlin’s neck as Arthur rolled on top of him, pinning him down under his weight, and Merlin was gasping and sighing at every touch of Arthur’s lips, his cock hard once more and leaking into the towel. This time, however, it’d been too long, too much, and Arthur was right on top of him, providing warmth and heaviness and solidity, and his lips were teasing Merlin’s earlobe before taking possession of his mouth again. Merlin bucked his hips once, twice, against Arthur’s abdomen, just trying to relieve some pressure – instead, stars exploded behind his closed eyelids as he released a long moan into Arthur’s mouth, the orgasm hitting him out of the blue like a wave and making his whole body shudder.

Arthur interrupted the kiss, glancing down with a confused look. “Did you just…?”

Merlin’s cheeks were burning with heat and embarrassment. “Maybe,” he mumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so fast with a new partner. “But I didn’t mean to, it just happened,” he added in an attempt to justify himself, before realising he wasn’t probably selling himself as a good lover in Arthur’s eyes. “I promise it usually takes me longer.”

He patted himself clean while a sweet smile appeared on Arthur’s face.

“I’ll put this in the washing,” Arthur said, helping Merlin out of his towel before disappearing with it beyond the bedroom door and returning a couple of minutes later with Merlin’s clothes. “There you go.”

“Very servile of you,” Merlin said suspiciously as he stood up to put on his boxers.

“I should have asked you earlier… maybe in the last few days as well,” Arthur said. “If you needed a hand.”

Merlin shrugged as the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. “I always knew you were a self-absorbed ass.”

“Well, you didn’t say anything either!” Arthur said with a scoff. “You could have asked me for… something!”

Merlin’s head poked out form his t-shirt. “I thought I could handle it… until, you know, we can share the moment together.”

“What if that moment never comes?” Arthur asked, his gaze lowered to the floor. “What if it’s not about survivor’s guilt, or whatever else… what if I just came back like this?”

“Then we’ll just keep snogging until our lips fall off,” Merlin replied, finally getting his king to chuckle.

And right there and then, Arthur felt it in his heart, quickly climbing up to his throat, the need to say the three magic words. I love you. He could have said it so easily, because he loved Merlin with all his heart and was infinitely grateful for him, and yet the words got stuck somewhere in his mouth.

“Judging by today, I’m still a sex god even at the snogging part,” he said instead. “You’ll be fine either way.”

Merlin pretended to be offended by his remark and gently pushed the king to the side. At least he was glad his premature orgasm today seemed to have lifted Arthur’s ego a bit. “How about you stop flattering yourself and find us a restaurant for tonight?” Merlin asked from the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of water. “Not Nando’s.”

“Are you giving me orders, Merlin?”

A second of silence followed. “Maybe.”

“I’ll allow it just this once.”

The sense of guilt settled in, punctual like a clock, soon enough.

Later that evening, while Arthur was picking the perfect shirt to go out for dinner, Merlin sat on the edge of the bed with his laptop open.

“The prices are insane for next weekend,” Merlin said, his eyes scanning the page and comparing different flights offer. It was to be expected, really. He turned his laptop towards Arthur so he could see to.

The king walked closer to take a look. “The 6 am one is not that bad.”

“That’s just the price for one person, one flight… so the total price would be at least four times that number,” Merlin explained. “Plus accommodation and transport and everything else… It’s quite expensive to stay there only 36 hours.”

“Right, uh, what about the following weekend?”

“I’m having my birthday party on the Saturday… and the weekend after there’s the Pride parade.”

“And the one after it’s Elias’s birthday.”

They looked at each other and quickly agreed it was either the coming weekend or not anytime soon.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Merlin asked. “We’ve had a lot of expenses recently and we just went to Paris too.”

“Yes, I really think I have to go,” Arthur replied firmly. He took his phone from his chest of drawers and opened Monzo. “And I’ll pay for it… for both of us. I should have enough in my savings account to cover all.”

Merlin’s head snapped up. “What? I thought the money in your savings account was for your studies.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen, is it,” Arthur retorted, sliding his phone into his pocket and trying to conceal his disappointment. “Just book the 6 am one and the evening return the following day… I’ll go get my card.”

*

“I’m not enjoying this,” Arthur stated.

“We literally just got on, like three minutes ago,” Merlin said, glancing to his left side.

“There’s just no _space_!” The king looked down at his own legs, confined in the very tiny space between his seat and the one in front, reducing his movements to a minimum. Merlin, on his right, was in a very similar situation but seemed more chill about it, while the woman sitting two seats down seemed not to have any issues with leg room. “I can’t even stretch my legs!”

“The flight is just over one hour, you’ll survive.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Merlin smirked, affectionately bumping his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “You’re just a bit cranky because you got up even earlier than usual.”

“I’m not _cranky_.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.”

After that, Arthur moved his attention to the window, small and oval-shaped. He could see the wings, the airport, the tarmac, other aircrafts parked some meters away. He just couldn’t imagine leaving the ground at some point.

When the plane started moving, Arthur couldn’t stop himself from holding on to both armrests, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white.

“Are you nervous?” Merlin whispered. He usually slept during flights, especially early morning ones, but he wasn’t going to miss Arthur’s reaction for the world. He covered the king’s hand with his own, on the armrest they shared.

“I’m not,” Arthur replied almost automatically. “Just wondering when we’re going to start flying.”

“Soon enough… you’ll know when it happens.”

As a matter of fact, Arthur did. He was pushed into his seat by an invisible force as the plane picked up the speed, the wheels spinning against the tarmac, then all of a sudden he felt as if someone had punched him right in the stomach, leaving his throat clenched and his heart hammering against his chest; glancing outside the window, he realised they’d lifted off the ground, and his breath was taken for an entirely different reason. Spread out under his eyes, endless green valleys, and trees, and houses, were looking increasingly smaller as seconds went by. Then London appear, his beautiful, immense city, reduced to a simple agglomerate of buildings, so tiny that he could spread his palm against the window and cover the whole central area.

When Arthur’s hands relaxed against the armrests, Merlin came to the conclusion that there would be no need for gums or sick bags.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Arthur nodded, without moving his gaze away from the window, utterly mesmerised by the world flowing below him, as if he was a bird, a dragon, a god. He hadn’t even realised that the plane was still going up until the view turned completely white for a bunch of second, before leaving space for a tear blue sky above a blanket of white clouds, looking like a herd of sheep.

“We’re above the clouds,” Arthur whispered, almost to convince himself of it. If he wasn’t living it first hand, he would have deemed it impossible.

“Yeah, we are,” Merlin said.

“It’s amazing.”

While Arthur spent the rest of the flight with his nose an inch away from the window, not wanting to miss one single minute of this exhilarating experience, Merlin rested his head against the seatback and closed his eyes, ready to take a nap, his left hand still resting on top of Arthur’s.

Their trip to Dublin immediately started out different from their weekend in Paris. After the awe of the flight faded, gradually, Arthur went into fight mode, his sense in full alert as they took a stroll through the semi-deserted city in the first hours of the morning.

“What are we going to do now?” Merlin asked when they sat down in a café for breakfast.

“We eat,” Arthur replied.

“Okay, and then? Check-in isn’t until the afternoon and we’ve already pretty much walked across the whole city.”

Arthur looked up from the menu. “I… don’t know.” He glanced around to see only a bunch of other customers.

“We still have time to book something to visit while we’re here,” Merlin suggested. “The Guinness Storehouse is a bit touristy but nice.”

“I’m not here to do sightseeing,” Arthur countered, a bit more harshly than he had intended. “I’m hoping they’ll find me… whoever I’m looking for.”

“How are they going to know you’re even here?!”

“Look, you didn’t have to come with me if you didn’t want to,” Arthur stated. “You could have stayed home.”

Merlin felt a rush of anger surge in him but repressed it quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was fight, about this, at 9 am on a Saturday morning. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he said calmly. “I was just wondering if you have an action plan, that’s all.”

“I don’t have one… yet. Just be here… maybe they’ll sense me. With magic.”

“Right, okay.”

“Can you… sense anything?”

Merlin shook his head. “No.” Even if there was something to sense, he was no longer sure he would have been able to.

They strolled around the city centre for hours after breakfast, walking into random shops just to pass the time, seeking out monuments like a treasure hunt, Molly Malone and Oscar Wilde being top of the list. However, except for a few moments of interest here and there, Arthur was lost in his own thoughts, keeping the conversation to a minimum, his attentive eyes darting from one passer-by to the other seeking a sign of some kind.

After they finally managed to check in their B&B and the hostess showed them their room for the night, Merlin dropped his backpack on the floor and let himself fall face first on the double bed.

“Are you tired?” Arthur asked, leaning against the wall. The room was quite small but had a cosy feeling to it, with loads of pillows on the bed and a little pot of flowers on the window.

“Yes,” Merlin replied, his voice muffled by the bed covers. “I’m knackered… I might just take a quick nap.”

“You should.”

Merlin stripped just enough to get comfortable before settling again on the bed. It was unbelievably soft, and the sheets smelled of lavender; plus, he was exhausted, physically and mentally, after spending more than half a day wandering around a city without any real purpose or company.

“Are you joining me?” Merlin asked.

Arthur looked up from his phone. “Uh, no.”

“Why not? You should rest a bit too… then later we can have a walk in the park and find a nice place for dinner.”

“I didn’t come here to sleep.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why, your enemies can’t _sense_ you while you sleep?”

“Is this funny to you?” Arthur asked.

“No, I’m just saying that-“

“Because let me tell you, Merlin, this isn’t funny to me at all.” The king got up, crossing his arms to his chest. “There’s someone in this city who had my sword and who went through the trouble of sending it to me, to my home address, without a fucking message or even a proper signature, okay?” Arthur’s voice had gone up in volume with each word, his cheeks turning redder by the second. “I don’t know who they are, I don’t know what they want, but I do know they’re here somewhere and they might as well be the reason I came back at all!”

“I know, I know,” Merlin said, trying to keep calm because clearly Arthur was losing it. “I’m just saying, I don’t think staying here alert for two days is going to do anything.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“You said it yourself, they know where you live… everything will become clear in due course.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, no, I’ve waited around for months, I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“Then maybe you should have made a plan, gathered more information, done some research, instead of booking the first available flight!” Merlin could feel his own cheeks heat up now, as his heart started racing in his chest. He hadn’t planned on losing his temper but Arthur was just being a stubborn prat, again.

“Or maybe _you_ could do something for once, this is your destiny too!” Arthur countered angrily, his brows furrowed in ire. “Why don’t you use your magic to help me find them? It was made for me, wasn’t it, your magic? Then use it! You find them and I’ll face them!”

“I can’t!” Merlin chewed on his own lower lip. “I can’t, okay? I’m not that powerful anymore!” It was the first time he said it out loud, recognised the lack of his own power, that had slowly but steadily abandoned him in the centuries.

“You’re the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk Earth!”

“I was!” Merlin could feel his eyes stinging with tears but he forcefully pushed them back. “I’m not anymore, I can’t just sense somebody without knowing exactly who they are and where they are.”

“Then you’re just totally useless, aren’t you, as you always were!” Arthur spat with anger, his jaw clenched. “You’re supposed to be my first ally in this fight, you should be supporting me!”

“I am supporting you, I always have, and you know it.”

“Not in any way that matters!”

Merlin felt as if he’d been slapped across the face. “You take that back, right now,” he said. “It’s not true and you know it.”

Arthur held his gaze for a few seconds before lowering it. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the anger as it left his body.

“That was hurtful,” Merlin said flatly.

“I know.”

“And unfair.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Arthur repeated, meeting the warlock’s eyes again. “I didn’t mean it… Having you by my side is the one thing that keeps me sane.”

The hint of a smile appeared on Merlin’s face. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Arthur smiled too. “Well, except those times in which you drive me insane.”

“Excuse me, weren’t you apologising?”

The king took a sit on the bed next to Merlin. “Really, I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” He gave the warlock’s hand a squeeze. “I really am sorry, I don’t know what got to me.”

“It’s okay… you’re a bit on the edge, I get that, I promise,” Merlin said softly. “And I worry too, but I’m not sure there’s anything we can actually do right now… we don’t know enough. We don’t know _anything_.”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe coming here was useless… but I had to try,” Arthur said. “Otherwise I would have spent weeks wondering what would have happened.”

“I understand that. And I’m here with you… I love you.”

“Yeah, same.” Arthur snaked his arms around Merlin’s shoulder, leaning closer to him. “Too early to kiss?”

“Why don’t you try and see what happens.”

Merlin’s words sounded like an invitation Arthur was eager to accept.

*

Thanks to Merlin’s presence, brave and solid and loving, Arthur sometimes forgot they weren’t just on holiday, that they were there for a very specific reason. As they sipped on a Guinness, or walked down Phoenix Park hand in hand, Arthur almost believed that was it, that was all they were around to do, see a bit of Ireland in the longest days of the year.

The time to head back to the airport approached quickly as they sat near the lighthouse in Howth, overlooking the sea, with a fish and chips portion in their hands.

“Mushy peas?” Merlin asked, holding out the little box containing the green mash.

“I’m good, thanks,” Arthur said. The breeze was cool and gentle on his face and he wished they didn’t have to head back so soon. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday.”

“I said a lot of things yesterday.”

“When you talked about your power.”

Merlin was about to bring a chip to his mouth. “Oh… what about it?”

“Just… I mean, I knew magic isn’t really a thing in the world anymore, you said that before,” Arthur said. “But I suppose I always thought you were still powerful.”

“My magic is the same magic that used to be everywhere… once that started to disappear, the one in me followed,” Merlin explained. He looked at the sea, remembering a time in which he could have felt it, alive, like a troubled soul, the same way he could have felt the wind, the sky, the trees, and he would have been just a tiny part of it all. “I still have something, I do spells and stuff… just nowhere near what I was born with.” He did do spells, but tended to screw them up, same went for other bits of magic he still used. It was easier to use technology, really, for most things. “But if you think about it, being the only sorcerer left means I’m technically also the most powerful.” He gave Arthur a nudge and watched an amused smile flicker across his face.

It disappeared quickly. “What if I need your magic to win my fight?” Arthur asked, as Gwen’s words made their way to his mind, when she urged him to trust magic because it might become useful.

“Well… if the fight needs to be won with magic, then it means magic would be back on Earth, right?” Merlin said, trying to sound convinced when he wasn’t at all. “So maybe I’ll feel it again… like when you came back.”

“Really?”

“Of course… I told you about this before, didn’t I?” Merlin finally took a bite of his chip. “The night you came back was the first time in centuries that I felt magic everywhere.” It faded just like it had appeared, but Merlin decided not to add this.

Arthur nodded, cutting a piece of his fish with the little wooden fork. “Yeah, maybe you’re right… your weapon might be returned to you like mine has.”

They ate under a greying sky, lulled by the sound of the waves and cries of the seagulls, and soon it was time to start heading back towards the airport.

Arthur enjoyed the flight just like he had the first time, forcefully ignoring the dark shade constantly hovering in his mind and heart.

“I can’t believe we went there for nothing,” Arthur said later that evening after they got back to their flat. “For a moment I really thought I was onto something.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for,” Merlin whispered.

On his way to the bedroom, Arthur stopped in front of the living room door, his gaze caught once again by the box containing his sword. It was still there, seemingly a normal antique, its power hidden inside.

Its sender was still hidden too, somewhere.

“Cowards, that’s what they are,” the king said, his heart picking up the pace as a wave of anger surged in him. “They probably knew I went there and they didn’t even come out to face me, like _fucking cowards_!” He kicked the box in a rush of ire, making Merlin behind him flinch.

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” the warlock repeated. “We’ll find another way.”

“We’re back to waiting.” Arthur walked to the window, his arms crossed to his chest. “I hate that this is happening on their terms.”

“I know, I know.” Merlin glanced down at the box and at the sign of the king’s shoe against it. He walked behind Arthur and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his chin on his shoulder, feeling the king’s body go rigid for a second before relaxing. “Have you ever thought that maybe it wasn’t your enemy who sent it?” the warlock whispered to his king’s ear. “Maybe it was an ally… a friend.”

He could see Arthur’s frown reflected on the window.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said. “Why would an ally just send me my sword without a note? Without revealing themselves?”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe they’re scared.”

The king seemed to ponder on that for a minute. “No… no, I think Fog is just a coward.” With a sigh, he freed himself from Merlin’s embrace and walked away.

*

Quickly things seemed to go back to normal, the prophecy relegated to a corner of their minds just like Excalibur was in their living room – existing, there, catching their attention when they could believe they forgot about it.

On the day of Emrys’s twenty-eighth birthday, Arthur tried his best to make the otherwise dull weekday evening just a tiny bit special.

“You made dinner?” Merlin asked as he came home from work and found Arthur in the kitchen between a cutting board and a hot oven.

“I did. Two courses,” the king replied proudly.

“Two courses?!” Merlin was too scared to walk in the kitchen and see the contents of the oven. “Neither from UberEats?”

“No, both made by me. For your birthday.”

“As in you bought the ingredients and cooked them from scratch?”

“Yes, _Merlin_ , that’s what I’m doing.” Arthur crossed his arms to his chest before eyeing the oven. “A Greek salad to start with, and then aubergine pizza as main. Wanted to try my hand with veggie recipes.”

Merlin silently sighed in relief as no meat or fish was involved, bringing the chances of food poisoning down to a low.

He had to admit both dishes looked decent and much superior compared to all the other recipes Arthur had attempted before.

“This is actually not bad,” Merlin said. The aubergines could have probably used a few more minutes in the oven but he wasn’t going to complain.

Arthur grinned in satisfaction.

Later they sat on the sofa with the intent of watching some telly, but ended up making out as it was almost routine. Before Merlin could realise it, he was lying down under Arthur’s solid weight, hot and breathless from the kissing.

Arthur tugged on the lower hem of Merlin’s t-shirt, letting his hands slip beneath. “Take his off,” he breathed against the warlock’s neck, gently nuzzling his jawline.

“N-now? Here?” Merlin stuttered, trying to connect his brain.

“Yeah. Here, now,” Arthur confirmed with a smirk that meant he was up to no good.

Merlin kissed it away before pulling himself up to take his t-shirt off. “You take it off too,” he said, helping the king out of his t-shirt too. He gasped at the first contact with Arthur’s skin as they resumed the kissing, Arthur’s mouth trailing down Merlin’s neck and onto his chest, stopping to roll his tongue against one of Merlin’s nipples while his fingers tweaked the other delicately and felt it harden gradually under the touch.

Glancing up, Arthur grinned to himself at the sight of Merlin’s lips, reddened and slightly parted as he let out tiny pants, a delightful blush spread across his cheeks. Arthur had learned in previous sessions how sensitive his lover’s nipples were, so responsive and quick to harden with the briefest attention, and he was more than happy to play this to his own advantages.

When he switched his mouth to the other side, Merlin hummed softly in agreement, the familiar throbbing becoming more and more insistent between his legs. He let himself go with the moment, his hands mindlessly roaming Arthur’s toned back as far as they would reach, until the king left’s mouth left his nipples to travel even lower down his abdomen.

“What, uh, what are you doing?” Merlin asked just as Arthur made contact with his navel.

“Something for your birthday,” Arthur replied, sitting back on his heels, one hand on each of the warlock’s spread knees. He assessed the situation and compared it to that video he’d recently watched, his eyes darting from Merlin’s legs to his own. “Maybe it’s better if you sit up.”

“Sit up? Why?” Merlin asked but complied anyway, as he watched his king stand up in all his half-naked glory before he kneeled down on the floor right in between his legs. “Arthur, uh… uhm…” Merlin started, quickly losing his train of thoughts when Arthur opened his jeans and slid them down to his ankles. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur said. He pressed an open-mouth kiss along the length of Merlin’s cock, hard under the cotton boxers, watching as the warlock’s thighs twitched in response. He nuzzled the shape of it, inhaling the musky scent, enjoying the way Merlin’s breaths accelerated even more with every touch.

“N-No, wait,” Merlin whispered, resting his hand on top of Arthur’s hand.

The king immediately moved an inch away, looking up with uncertainty. “No?”

Merlin swallowed dry as he tried to ignore his hormones for a moment. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to, I just wanted to do something for your birthday. Something different,” Arthur said, his hands warm against Merlin’s thighs.

“You can just use your hands… Those worked really well last time.” The warlock thought back with a smile at their encounter just a few evenings earlier, at Arthur’s hand reaching under Merlin’s boxers to grab his dick and stroke it just as Merlin thought he was going to explode after all the neck kissing and nipple twisting and overall heavy petting they got involved in. “Or, you know, you don’t have to do anything at all,” he added quickly. “But, uh… especially not _this_.”

Arthur frowned in a mix of confusion and disappointment. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean yes, yes of course I like it, it’s just… uh, I think I’d feel bad about it,” Merlin mumbled, his voice decreasing in volume as he spoke. “That I can’t, uhm, reciprocate, you know?”

“I really want to do this, for you,” Arthur said firmly, bringing his mouth down again to nibble at the soft skin of Merlin’s inner thighs. “Don’t think about me.”

“That’s something I’ve never thought I’d hear from y-oh.” Merlin’s voice hitched when the air of the room hit the bare flesh of his cock, now throbbing heavily just a few inches from Arthur’s face, while the king’s hands slid his boxers all the way down to his ankles to join his jeans.

“Can I?” Arthur asked, his breath hot against the warlock’s cock making him tingle in anticipation.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Merlin said finally, his agreement turning into a moan when Arthur wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft.

The king took a moment to study the sight in front of him, realising it was the first time he was looking so closely at a penis, excluding his own. It was quite fascinating, the way it twitched in his hand and leaked against the flushed head, making him wonder what it tasted like, what it would feel like in his mouth.

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Merlin said, mistaking the king’s focus for second thoughts.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said. Then, he proceeded to place a quick, tentative kiss on the very top of Merlin’s cock, followed by another, longer one, his tongue flicking to taste the liquid there, encouraged by the warlock’s increasingly needy moans.

When Arthur finally took the head into his mouth, Merlin let his head drop back with a sob as his whole physical existence was narrowed down to that contact between them. The blowjob itself ended up being far from the best Merlin ever had; Arthur was eager but lacked any type of technique whatsoever, he just licked and sucked and _slurped_ uncoordinatedly, stopping from time to time to massage his own jaw or apologise for some misplaced teeth action, while the warlock channelled all his self-control to not thrust his hips up into that warm mouth and get it exactly how he liked it. Still, just having Arthur like that, kneeled between his legs, with his lips wrapped tightly around his cock, was enough to bring Merlin to the edge.

“A-Arthur, wait…” Merlin whispered, tugging softly on the king’s hair to get his attention. “I’m-I’m close.”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up, never stopping the bobbing motion, as he seemed to ponder on the information he’d just received; one second later, he released Merlin’s dick with a pop to replace his mouth with his hand, starting a quick stroking motion that had Merlin throw his head back with a whimper. The warlock’s hips thrusted up rhythmically into Arthur’s fist, so close and so desperate to get over the edge, a series of staccato sobs escaping his lips uncontrolled. Then the king was sitting next to him, his eyes hungry and loving, his hand working relentlessly, until each stroke blended into the next and Merlin came with a long, trembling moan, his whole consciousness getting lost in the wave of pleasure. Arthur kept stroking him, slowly, drawing out his ecstasy as much as he could, peppering little kisses on the warlock’s shoulder.

“Well happy birthday,” he said after Merlin had come down from his peak.

Merlin chuckled. “Thank you.”

Arthur looked down at his own hand, covered in semen and still wrapper around Merlin’s softening dick. “I’ll go get a towel,” he said. He was back a minute later wiping his own hand on the towel, before rubbing it across Merlin’s stomach too. “Did you want me to… you know, finish the other way?” he asked tentatively.

“No, this was perfect,” Merlin said, leaning his head on Arthur’s shoulder once the cleaning was done. He rested his hand on the king’s stomach, warm and supple.

“Maybe I’ll try the other way another time,” Arthur said, wrapping an arm around Merlin’s frame to pull him into him.

“Completely up to you.”

“So was it good then? Any feedback?”

Merlin actually had some feedback but decided to keep it for another time. “Better than the first one I did for sure.”

“Yet another thing that I’m better than you at,” Arthur said smugly.

The warlock slapped his stomach softly. “How was it for you, _prat_?”

“I have to say, it looks easy when you’re on the receiving end, but it’s actually a lot of effort,” Arthur replied. “My jaw is still sore.” He opened his mouth and rotated his chin around a couple of times to stress his point.

Merlin pulled himself up a bit to kiss down Arthur’s jawline and onto his cheek, before reaching his mouth.

“You’re… okay with this?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“With what?”

“With kissing after… you know.”

“Of course,” Merlin said before closing the distance between them and pressing his lips on Arthur’s. He could still taste himself in his mouth, something he didn’t mind at all, he found it quite hot in fact, the reminder that Arthur had wanted to do that for him. “Hey, are you sure you don’t want me to do anything for you?”

Arthur’s body went rigid as he broke the kiss. “Do you have to ask that every time?” he asked drily, looking away.

“I was just wondering… there’s this thing we could try-“

“No, Merlin, I don’t want to try anything,” Arthur countered. “Just stop asking, if I ever want to do anything I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, okay, I got it, no need to get upset,” Merlin said softly, stroking Arthur’s arm with his fingertips. “It’s fine, I won’t ask again.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you.” He just wanted to avoid being reminded, every time, that he was missing something, that he wasn’t fully adequate.

“Can you kiss me again now? It’s still my birthday.”

A smirk appeared across the king’s face. “Actually I have something else for you, I almost forgot about it.”

“Something else?” Merlin asked a bit intrigued.

“I got you a cake.”

Arthur got up and grabbed his t-shirt before walking to the kitchen. Merlin also got dressed again, as the idea of eating cake in the living room while naked made him feel a bit weird.

They finally put on a film as they ate the cake, half paying attention to the telly and half chatting about previous films, and occasionally getting lost in some more kisses. Merlin could never had enough.

He had organised a proper birthday party for himself that weekend.

“I’m so excited,” he admitted as they got ready for the evening. “I haven’t told anyone about us, well except Aga of course.”

Arthur stopped his arms in mid air, his t-shirt rolled up in his hands. “About us?”

“That we’re a couple now.”

“Oh, right… Right.” Arthur put on his t-shirt, smoothing it across his shoulders, averting the warlock’s gaze. “A couple.”

“Is something wrong?” Merlin asked, buttoning up his shirt.

“No, uh, nothing, just the… couple thing,” Arthur replied.

“Are we not a couple?”

The king finally met Merlin’s eyes, and didn’t like what he saw there – uncertainty, concern, a hint of hurt. “Of course we are,” Arthur said, determined not to ruin anyone’s day. “It’s just the first time we say that out loud.”

And they really were a couple, the king thought to himself, there was no denying that, objectively. However, a part of him struggled to come to terms with it; that he was officially in a relationship with someone now, someone that wasn’t the woman he married. He wondered if Merlin picked up on that and decided to ignore it for everyone’s sake.

Before leaving, Merlin pressed a quick peck on his lips. “I love you.”

Arthur forced out a smile, trying not to look too uncomfortable. “Yeah, same,” he said. Love declarations from Merlin were another thing that he couldn’t seem to reciprocate, not because of lack of feelings, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Merlin would say it, casually, here and there, before sleep or in the middle of a snogging session, or in any other moment, and Arthur would just listen, take it in, and react with the equivalent of a pat on the back.

His sense of guilt acted up the whole evening but he didn’t let it show.


	13. I'm no longer trembling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, we're finally reaching the end of this story. I've just written the end today so the final chapter will probably come in a few days!  
> This chapter also contains sexual situations and is rated E. I'm also changing the overall story rating.   
> Thanks for reading and happy Valentine's day xx

July arrived soon enough and Pride day with it. When Merlin mentioned Aga was coming over early that morning to ‘get ready’, Arthur shrugged it off as he bit on a chunk of toast and went for a quick run in the meantime. The day looked lovely, sunny, warm but not too hot, perfect to stay outside the whole day as they were planning to.

When he came home, sweaty and still panting, he found Merlin and Aga in the bathroom with a pop playlist in the background. Merlin was sitting on the closed toilet, his eyes closed and his head slightly turned towards the wall, away from Arthur’s eyes, while Aga seemed to be putting makeup on him.

“Hey Arthur!” she greeted, without removing the focus from her task. “Don’t worry, we’ll move to the living room in a second so you can shower.”

“That’s fine, no rush,” Arthur said. “What are you guys doing?”

“Just putting on some glitter,” Merlin replied.

“Do you want some too? It’s biodegradable,” Aga said.

“I think I’m good, thanks,” Arthur replied. He went to the kitchen to get some water while he heard them move rooms.

“Bathroom free!” Merlin shouted from the living room.

It was only after his own shower that Arthur saw what ‘getting ready’ really meant, when Merlin walked into the corridor in the complete look just as his king was walking to the bedroom wrapped up in his robe.

“What do you think?” Merlin asked.

Arthur didn’t realise his jaw was hanging open until he tried to speak. The very first thing that caught his attention was the outfit, so different from what Merlin would usually wear – a pair of shorts in grey denim that only covered the very top part of his thighs, leaving his legs completely bare, and a black tank top with a rainbow heart on the left shoulder. Then Arthur’s gaze moved to his lover’s face, taking in the makeup work, a pattern of rainbow-coloured glitter that started from Merlin’s cheekbones to follow the sides of his face, contouring his eyes, fading beneath his hair on his forehead. His lips too looked plumper, darker than usual, making Arthur wonder if lipstick was involved too.

There was something a bit feminine about this look, Arthur thought at first, before changing his mind. No, not feminine. Ethereal. It must have been the glitter, the sparkle that stood out from his pale skin and framed his eyes, that made Merlin look like the being of magic he was.

“It looks good,” Arthur replied eventually with a nod. It looked vaguely sexy too, but preferred not to add this part in Aga’s presence.

He quickly went into the bedroom to get changed, picking a very common white t-shirt and a pair of knee-long cargo shorts, as he wondered if he was going to be the only one wearing average men’s clothes. When he walked back to the living room, Aga was the only one there. She was kneeling beside the box containing Excalibur, one eyebrow raised.

“Which one of you ordered a _sword_?” she asked, lifting up one of the edges of the box to peer inside.

“Uhm, I, uh, it was me…” Arthur replied, his heart skipping a beat. “Uhm, my-my father used to collect, uh, artifacts from the Middle Ages… I-I thought I would, you know, carry on the tradition.”

A moment of silence followed. Then, Aga stood up with a shrug and went back to her makeup purse. “I know you said no glitter, but what about this one?” She held out a drawing stick in three colours, blue, lilac, and pink. Arthur recognised the bisexual flag colours, and noticed that they were the same colours that Aga was wearing – blue miniskirt, a thick lilac canvas belt and a bright pink crop top. He couldn’t help noticing how her makeup was sort of exaggerated too; in addition to a colourful pattern of glitter around her eyes and onto her forehead, not dissimilar to Merlin’s, she also had thick rainbow lashes and more silver glitter on her eyelids, and a very dark purple shade of lipstick.

“I don’t think face paint is my thing,” Arthur said.

“You don’t have to use it on your face, it can be anywhere… on your arms, for example.”

“I really think I’m good, thanks,” he replied. Then he thought again. “Unless it’s compulsory? To wear a flag somewhere.”

Aga chuckled. “What? Compulsory?”

Arthur realised he said the wrong thing. “Sorry, it’s my first Pride.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… I mean, I was straight before Emrys, so…” he said. “He turned me bisexual.”

“I’m quite sure you were always bi, maybe you just didn’t know,” Aga said with a wink.

Arthur shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Sexuality is a fluid thing, you know… being bi doesn’t have to be 50/50,” Aga said. “You can like one man and a thousand women and you’d still qualify as bi.”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Arthur said, wondering if she was just reading his mind or if Merlin had spoken to her about stuff. Probably the latter. “What’s it like for you? Are you 50/50?” he asked, giving in to his own curiosity. “If I may ask,” he immediately added, realising he and Aga weren’t necessarily close enough for this type of conversation.

She giggled. “For most of my life I thought I was a lesbian!” she said. “I’d say I’m an 80/20 for women… I’m only attracted to men that I’m really in tune with, mentally.”

“Oh. Interesting,” Arthur said, almost more to himself.

“But you know, there are other labels out there for people who like more than one gender… you should do some research, see if you think any of those fits you better than ‘bi’.”

At that point Merlin appeared too from the door and immediately stuck out his arm in Aga’s direction. She dragged the stick all the way from his shoulder to his wrist, leaving the three streaks of colour along his arm. Then, she handed the stick to him, who in return drew a flag on her exposed v-line, right below her collarbone.

“Do you want a flag too?” Merlin asked.

“Uh, no thanks,” Arthur replied.

A flash of disappointment seemed to flicker across Merlin’s face before he shrugged.

Then more actual flags appeared, and there were pictures, and other friends coming to their flat so they could all leave together.

Arthur waited for them all to be in the street, so he could grab Merlin’s hand a walk a few meters behind the rest of the group. “Does it bother you, that I’m not wearing anything… themed?” he asked, almost shyly.

Merlin shook his head. “That’s okay… this day is to celebrate who you are, your identity… you have to be comfortable with that. More than that, you have to be proud.”

“I am!” Arthur countered immediately, squeezing Merlin’s hand as to prove a point. “I just don’t feel the need to write it across my forehead, literally.”

Merlin gave him a most understanding smile. “It’s okay… whatever works for you. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

Arthur wasn’t extremely clear, at first, on what the whole thing was about. Sure, he knew the theory, and the logistics of it, but its heart was still missing. It was only until he was in the middle of it, with music and dances and more glitter, that he truly felt it. He looked around to see a crowd of people celebrating their identity, or supporting their friends, screaming into the world how proud they were of being who they were, and his eyes irrevocably fell on Merlin. Merlin who’d spent centuries, a millennium even, hiding in the dark, ignoring his own heart, hating himself for it even, was now free to be who he was born to be, at least in this sense. Arthur could only begin to imagine how happy Merlin must have felt in a day like this, how special this all must have been for him after living what he’d lived.

Arthur smiled to himself. He wasn’t yet sure whether he was proud of himself, for this, he still had to fully come to terms with it, but for sure he was proud of Merlin and of their love.

He tapped on Aga’s shoulder. “Hey, any chance you have the flag stick with you?”

“I do,” she said with a grin, reaching in her backpack to retrieve it. She pulled the cap off with a pop. “Where?”

Leaning over slightly to compensate for their height difference, he double tapped his left cheekbone. “A small one please.”

Aga only dragged the stick on his skin for a couple of inches, and yet Arthur felt it made all the difference. He loved the smile that appeared on Merlin’s face when he spotted it.

“It looks really nice,” Merlin said, squealing when Arthur pulled him into an unapologetic kiss, under everyone’s eyes.

Of the many things Arthur might have wanted to hide, this wasn’t one of it, especially not today.

Later in the afternoon he was pleased to meet some of his friends too, most coming to support as allies, a couple of them wearing flags he hadn’t seen before. Elias was there too; he tapped on his own left cheek and gave Arthur a thumbs up.

“I can’t feel my feet anymore, they’re so sore,” Merlin said as they came back home, much later that evening, after what felt like a day-long standing party. He kneeled down to untie his shoelaces. “But it was amazing, wasn’t it? The atmosphere, the people… everything.”

Arthur nodded, his own heart full of joy. “It really was,” he said.

Merlin sighed in relief when finally his shoes came off and he could wiggle his toes against the floor. He was walking to the living room, desperate to sit down, when Arthur’s voice stopped him.

“I love you.”

The warlock spun around on his heels, unable to believe his own ears. “What?”

“I love you,” Arthur repeated firmly.

Merlin remained silence for a second, letting the words fully sink in, enjoying the wave of happiness they caused. Then, he smirked. “Took you long enough.”

“Excuse me, what happened to ‘I love you too’”? Arthur asked with a scoff.

“Eh, I think I’ll stick to ‘same’ for a while.”

He threw himself into the living room before Arthur’s dirty sock could hit him in the face.

*

The realisation that his volunteering experience was almost coming to an end hit Arthur gradually but excruciatingly.

“It’s going to be sad not having you around next term,” Aisling told him one day in their last week.

“I really wish I could continue, believe me,” Arthur said. “But new things got in the way.”

“I understand… at least I hope you’ll still pursue a teaching career?”

Arthur looked down. “If I can, I will.” He didn’t want to say right now, but he’d abandoned the idea, really; as much as he would have loved to go with it, as much as he felt it was his true calling, his destiny was still waiting for him, just like Excalibur in his living room.

Later that day, after the kids left, he started tidying up the room when Aisling approached him.

“Hey, Evie’s mum is running late and we don’t have consent to let her go alone,” she said. “You don’t mind staying with her a bit longer, do you? I have some admin stuff to sort out.”

“Yeah, of course.”

He joined Evie outside in the silent playground area, taking the free swing next to hers. He was going to miss her just a bit more than the others; watching her grow, even for just a few months, had been a ride and he was going to cherish her drawings as some of his fondest memories of this time.

“I don’t feel like playing,” Evie said. “Tell me a story.”

“A story? What kind of story?” Arthur asked.

She shrugged. “Any story.” She sat across the swing instead, ready to listen.

“Right, uhm…” Arthur gathered his thoughts and whatever pieces of imagination he had. He shifted his weight from the tip of his toes to his heels and back, swinging mindlessly. “Once upon a time…” he started tentatively. “…there was a princess…”

Evie opened his mouth and pointed at the back of her throat with her index finger, making a disgusted sound.

“Not a princess?” Arthur said, taking in the feedback. “Okay, so… once upon a time, there was a… uh…”

“A queen,” Evie supplied.

“Okay, a queen,” Arthur nodded. “Once upon a time, there was a queen… and, uh, a king…”

“No king.”

Arthur glanced to his side. “No king?”

“No.” Evie seemed to think about it for a second, then she shrugged. “The king is dead.”

“Wow, brutal, okay.” Arthur masked his pang of pain behind a joke and a snicker. It still came back, here and there, his sense of guilt for having failed his wife. Most days he didn’t think about it at all, he even wondered at some point whether finding closure only meant no longer thinking about an issue; and then there were the days, moments, little things even, like this silly story, in which all of a sudden he was reminded of it, of her love, her letter, their wedding promise, everything, and he almost felt sick. “Okay, uh… so there was this queen, a widow… alone to reign over her great kingdom…”

“She wasn’t alone!”

At Evie’s remark, Arthur’s thoughts came to a halt. “She wasn’t?”

“Nu-uh, silly!” the girl said as if she was about to explain the obvious. “She had her best friend with her! And her maid, and her knights, and her horses…”

A switch had been flicked in Arthur’s mind with those simple words. Of course Gwen wasn’t alone. In her whole life, she was never alone.

“Let me start again,” Arthur said, a broad smile curling his lips. He swung with excitement, his heart hammering in his chest. “Once upon a time… in a land of myth and a time of magic… there was a queen… a powerful, fair and just queen, one of the greatest queens the world has ever known, beloved by her subjects and servants alike… her kingdom was small but prosperous, and often menaced by neighbouring powers… but she was a fearless warrior, and could always count on her best friend, the court sorcerer-“

“A sorcerer? So he has magic powers?” Evie asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

“Yes, some say he was the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk earth… and when he was with the queen, then no enemy could stand a chance…”

For the whole journey home, Arthur couldn’t stop thinking of Gwen’s last words, and the first thing he did when he reached the flat was to open her letter, scanning it with his eyes, unable to wipe away the smile from his face.

Of course, he’d got it all wrong.

When Merlin came home too, some time later, Arthur couldn’t wait to tell him everything.

“Hey, sorry I read your message too late, I was already at the pool when you texted,” Merlin said as he walked into the living room. “Is everything okay?”

Arthur’s grin still hadn’t faded. “It’s more than okay, it’s… great.”

“What-what happened?”

“I’m an idiot.”

Merlin frowned. “Uh, yes you are… and?”

“No, here.” Arthur grabbed the letter and shoved it under the warlock’s nose. “Here, she said… she said even after my death she always felt loved and never alone, and I thought she was talking about me…” He pointed at the line on the old parchment, even though he knew Merlin couldn’t read it. “I thought it was _my_ love she felt, _my_ presence! But… it wasn’t, she wasn’t talking about me…” He looked up to meet his boyfriend’s still very confused eyes. “She was talking about you… and the knights, and her friends, and her people… _you_ made her happy. Your friendship.”

Merlin shook his head slightly, delicately taking the letter into his hands. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“A part of me, I’ve always thought… I don’t know, that I abandoned her, that I left her alone to reign… and she never remarried for love, I thought she never moved on from me…” Arthur said, pacing up and down the room. “But she did, she moved on… she was happy again, after me… she found happiness again.”

And, Arthur thought to himself, she wanted him to feel the same in his new life. Loved. Not by her, just loved. Happy.

“I told you, didn’t I? That she was happy,” Merlin said, his expression softening now, his fingers carefully stroking his old friend’s handwriting.

“Yes but I never really believed you… you said she never loved anyone else, I thought…”

“You thought she was pining for you her whole life?” Merlin joked. “I mean, sure, she waited for you, and she would have been ecstatic to get you back, but-“

“But she was happy,” Arthur said, out loud, the awareness slowly sinking to his bones. “The same way you were… all your life, you waited for me, and yet you found happiness… anywhere else.”

Merlin nodded softly.

His friends. His wives, his girlfriends, his boyfriends. Mary. Medicine. Swimming. Christmas Eve. Sunrises. Books. Pizza. Paris. 

His long life was unbearably painful at times, but love saved him every time, in the most unexpected ways.

“That’s a high degree of self-absorption right here, even for you,” he joked.

Arthur stared at him from the other side of the room with an intensity that Merlin had rarely seen before, a wide-eyed mix of love and resoluteness. Then, a blink later, the king was on him, pressing their lips together, his hands cupping Merlin’s face. Merlin moaned softly as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, his eyes fluttering close after the initial surprise, his arms wrapping around Arthur’s waist almost instinctively, pulling him as close as he could.

They stayed there, kissing in the middle of their living room, letting their tongues dwell and dance with crescendo passion, until Merlin felt something hard press against his thigh. He pulled back an inch, pressing his lips together to repress a smile. “Is that a piece of weaponry in your pocket?”

Arthur seemed confused for a second, his eyes meeting Merlin’s in puzzlement. Then, as the awareness of his own body washed down on him, his mouth stretched into the widest grin.

“This is interesting,” he stated. “Bedroom?”

Merlin nodded eagerly. “Bedroom.”

Before Merlin could say anything else, or even fully grasp what was happening, Arthur was scooping him up in his arms bridal style, making the warlock squeal with surprise and delight.

“I like this,” Merlin said as they walked to the bedroom.

“I know you do.”

“You should carry me more often.”

“Not a chance.”

Arthur dropped him on the bed and immediately claimed his mouth again. They undressed each other eagerly among kisses and light bites and hands roaming each other’s body, touching wherever they could reach. Once they were both naked, Merlin pushed Arthur down on the bed and climbed on top of him, pressing his mouth against the king’s before dragging it down to his throat. Arthur swallowed, tilting his head back to allow more access.

“God, Arthur, I…” Merlin whispered against his neck. “I want to do everything to you.” And he could now, he was allowed to, finally, after so long, all his wildest dreams and desires could come true.

Arthur hummed softly in agreement and rested his head back, letting Merlin’s mouth and hands travel wherever they wanted, letting himself getting accustomed again to the physical pleasure those touches gave him, the shivers, the jolts of electricity, euphoric that finally all his desire was evident on his body and he could love Merlin the way he deserved.

Merlin kissed and touched the gorgeous body under him for minutes, lavishing the king’s neck and chest with attentions, not wanting to leave one inch untouched. Arthur still seemed to be a silent lover, so Merlin had to listen carefully to his breath hitching and becoming more laboured, to find guidance on what he was doing right. Soon the warlock was sitting between Arthur’s spread thighs, his face just a few inches away from Arthur’s cock, hard and flushed and waiting, leaking precome from the top. Glancing up, his king’s face was just as flushed, his eyes spread wide in anticipation.

“Are you going to…?” Arthur asked, wetting his lips.

“I want to,” Merlin said. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied quickly.

It was all that Merlin needed. He took his time to taste the king, licking down the underside of his shaft until he reached his balls and gave equal attentions to them, rolling them in his hand and sucking them into his mouth, pleased to hear this was eliciting some soft groans from Arthur. They locked eyes together when Merlin finally took him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the engorged head, lapping the precome as it oozed steadily on his tongue. Arthur tasted delicious, but his eyes were what did it for Merlin – hungry, wide, beautiful, looking at the warlock with lust, while his mouth hung slightly parted and his teeth tortured his lower lip. As he bobbed his head up and down, relaxing his throat and revelling in the soft pants that came more frequently from the king’s mouth, Merlin reached down between his own legs with his free hand to follow the rhythm on his own body.

“Merlin, wait, stop,” Arthur said at some point, tugging at Merlin’s hair. When the warlock didn’t stop, but almost grinned around Arthur’s cock, the king had to tug harshly with both hands. “I said stop!” he repeated.

At that, Merlin immediately released him, concern clouding his face as he climbed back up Arthur’s body. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t want to… not like that,” Arthur replied softly.

“Why not? I want to, I want to make you feel good.” He’d been genuinely excited about having Arthur come in his mouth.

“No, no, I want…” Arthur searched for the right words in his mind still clouded with pleasure. “I want to make love to you.”

Merlin’s mouth turned into an ‘o’ shape. “Oh.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, of course, of course I want to,” Merlin said quickly. He ran his hand through Arthur’s hair until it rested against his cheek. “I told you, I want everything.”

He kissed Arthur again and the king rolled them over, his larger body pressing Merlin’s thinner one into the mattress.

“So, uh, which… uhm, what do you usually do?” Arthur asked, nuzzling the warlock’s cheek.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, uh… are you… like, do you usually give or-or receive?”

Merlin could swear the red that was spreading across Arthur’s cheek was no longer due to the blowjob. Smirking, he ran a hand up and down the king’s back. “Are you asking me if I’m a top or a bottom?”

“If that’s the lingo.”

“I’m versatile, I can do either… whatever you want to do, I’ll follow,” Merlin said.

“No, I want to know what _you_ prefer,” Arthur said firmly while his mouth continued the journey down Merlin’s neck. “If you have a preference.”

Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed when Arthur found the softest spot. “I, uh, I usually bottom… with guys I prefer bottoming.”

He felt Arthur grin against his neck. The king kissed down Merlin’s chest to flick his nipples with his tongue before sitting up. The sexy smirk on his face faded gradually as he glanced up and down Merlin’s body.

“So, uh, how does it work?” he asked tentatively.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never had anal?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Oh, okay, uhm, we’ll need lube,” Merlin said, pulling up on his elbows. He knew anal sex was not a big thing in the middle ages, especially for royalty, but he thought Arthur had at least tried it once. “And then… actually, just go get the lube, and then I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Lube, okay,” Arthur nodded, crawling out of the bed. “Where is it?”

“Bathroom, my cabinet.” Merlin hoped it hadn’t expired, he hadn’t used it in months. “We’ll also need a towel… and, uh, condoms.”

Arthur frowned. “Condoms, why? You won’t get pregnant, and… well, I doubt I have any disease.”

“No, I’m clean too, it’s… the condom would be for you, uh…” Merlin started. “I wasn’t expecting this to happen, so I haven’t really prepared.”

When the deep frown on Arthur’s face didn’t disappear, Merlin pressed his lips together. He normally didn’t mind discussing the realities of anal sex with his partners but Arthur seemed totally clueless.

“You know, I haven’t had the cleanest diet recently, and, uh… I haven’t douched in a long time… and…”

“Oh, right,” Arthur said. They didn’t show this part in the porn videos he’d watched. “I’ll get the condoms.”

He came back a minute later with everything they needed and crawled back next to Merlin, pulling him into a kiss.

“If it puts you off, we can do something different,” Merlin whispered.

“It doesn’t put me off,” Arthur said promptly. He kissed again down the warlock’s body, leaving behind a trail of wet marks, while his hand stroked Merlin’s softened cock back into hardness until Merlin was moaning again. "You're so beautiful," Arthur whispered as he sat between Merlin's spread legs. “Tell me what to do.”

Merlin smirked. “Can’t believe those words came out of your mouth.”

As an answer, Arthur slapped his thigh.

“You need to prepare me… stretch me, with your fingers, using the lube,” Merlin explained. “Or I can prepare myself?”

Arthur had already opened the lube bottle. “No, I want to do this for you.” He quickly placed the towel under Merlin’s arse and watched him as he drew his legs up to his chest, completely exposing himself to Arthur’s inquisitive gaze.

Then, Arthur followed the instructions, stretching Merlin’s tight opening one finger at a time, letting his other hand stroke Merlin’s cock and balls until the warlock’s sigh turned into moans and his fingers were digging into the sheets.

“Come here,” Merlin breathed, gesturing for the king to lie next to him. The second he drew one leg back up, Arthur’s slick fingers were back at work, three of them, pumping up and down his arse while Merlin reached down to stroke the king’s cock.

Taken by surprise, Arthur’s hand jerked and Merlin’s head fell back.

“Oh God!” the warlock sobbed, shaken by a sudden jolt of pleasure that made his toes curl.

“What did I do?”

“You hit my prostate.”

Arthur was panting against the warlock’s neck in time with his own fingers and Merlin’s hand on his cock. “Good?”

“So good.”

A minute later, Merlin touched the king’s wrist to stop him. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Merlin teared the condom open and rolled it down Arthur’s cock, his hands trembling in anticipation. Then he lay back, settling a pillow under his hips and inviting Arthur into his arms, kissing him deeply while the king lined himself up to Merlin’s entrance.

Merlin broke the kiss with a gasp when Arthur started pushing into him, stretching him wide open inch after inch, slowly joining their bodies until he was fully buried in. He rested his forehead against Merlin’s, staring into his eyes as he let him adjust to the feeling.

The warlock’s eyes veiled up with tears, still incredulous that Arthur was inside him, on top of him, and that they were in love, and they were together, his best friend and the man he’d always loved. Centuries of waiting for his return suddenly were worth it.

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” Arthur asked, worried about the tears.

“No, no… it doesn’t hurt,” Merlin said, the emotion making his voice quiver. One tear rolled down the side of his head. “It’s perfect… you’re perfect.”

Arthur circled the warlock's nose with his own. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Arthur kissed his lips softly as he started pulling in and out in shallow thrusts, moving Merlin’s legs to find the position that worked best for both of them, panting as he watched pleasure distort his lover’s face. With Merlin’s legs on Arthur’s shoulders, soon they settled into a rhythm and the room was filled with heavy breaths and Merlin’s moans and whimpers as Arthur hit his prostate with every thrust. The warlock reached down to stroke his own dick in time, the pleasure burning up every nerve on his body, the other hand holding on to the sheets as if his life depended on it. He could feel that Arthur was close when his rhythm became more frantic but less regular, and Merlin invited his king down into his arms again, one of his legs still on top of Arthur’s shoulders, stretching his thigh almost to the point of pain, while the other leg fell open to one side.

“Merlin, I…” Arthur panted. His face was flushed red and a veil of sweat covered his forehead. “I’m so close… are you with me?”

“Yes, yes…” Merlin said, feeling his own orgasm build up. “Always.”

Arthur thrusted three more times before letting go with a groan, his eyes falling shut and his mouth open, a sight that was enough to push Merlin over the edge too, spilling his pleasure between their bodies as his hole clenched around Arthur, drawing out his pleasure.

The king’s mouth crashed on Merlin’s, muffling his moans, sloppily kissing him until they both came down from their peak, and then some more, until he rolled away and removed his condom.

“Did you like it?” was the first thing Arthur asked.

The grin that stretched across Merlin’s face said it all. “It was amazing.”

“Glad to hear that at least in bed I’m still a king.”

The warlock chuckled as he grabbed the towel between his legs and used it to wipe off his stomach. “Yes, the king of _making love_.”

“Making love?” Arthur scoffed. “Always such a girl.”

“Uhm, you said it first, remember?” Merlin said with a nudge. “You said you wanted to make love to me, those exact words.”

“I was lost in the moment,” Arthur muttered. “And at least I didn’t cry.”

Merlin pretended to be offended for a second. Then he shifted closer and rested his head on Arthur’s chest, still unable to wipe the grin from his face. He knew he had to get up to properly clean himself at some point, but he thought the bathroom could wait a couple more minutes. The king was soft right now, he stroked Merlin’s back and kissed his forehead, whispering love declarations and little things about his day, and all of a sudden everything else was forgotten. For a few more minutes, the world and its problems didn’t exist, it was just the two of them.

“I’m starving now,” Arthur said at some point. “Sex makes me hungry.”

“Pizza?”

“Chinese?”

Merlin licked his lips. He was a bit peckish too. “Oh, yes, sweet and sour chicken.”

“And chow mein.”

“And spring rolls.”

Arthur pulled himself up a bit. “I’ll go get my phone.”

“Yeah, and I’ll go clean myself up a bit,” Merlin agreed.

After all was done, the warlock walked into the living room in boxers and a t-shirt expecting to find the king with his nose deep in his phone screening a Chinese takeaway menu. Instead, he was sitting on the sofa in his boxers only, the old chest with the Camelot diaries open on the floor in between his legs, his fingers caressing the delicate papers. 

“Is everything okay?” Merlin asked softly.

Arthur nodded. “I want to publish these.”

“You want to what?”

“I want to publish these… the diaries,” Arthur repeated. “I want to write them up a bit, make them into a story, and publish them, so that the world can read them.”

Merlin took a seat next to him. “Why?”

“Because Gwen wanted to be remembered… and instead history forgot about her, but she deserves to have a space amongst the rulers of Britain,” Arthur said. “The world needs to know everything she did, the peace and prosperity she brought to her kingdom… and these diaries are that story. I want to do this last thing for her.” When he heard no replied, he glanced at his side. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea, really,” Merlin said simply. “You’re good at writing, I told you that before, I’m sure with some patience you’d do a fabulous job.”

“But?”

Merlin sighed. “But-“

“No, I know… I probably don’t have enough time to write a book, and get it published,” Arthur said. “But at least I have to try, for her… it was the one thing she truly wanted.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Merlin said softly, resting his hand on the king’s shoulder. “It’s just… don’t take this the wrong way, please, but…” He sighed. “In this world, it’s all a legend… she is, like you are, like I am… you know that.”

“I know.”

“Nobody is going to believe that what you write was real… they’re just going to think it’s one more take on the Arthurian legends.”

The edge of Arthur’s mouth curled up in a smile. “I know… but maybe someone out there will read it, and will like the story, and decide that they want to believe it’s what really happened.” Evie would, he thought. Evie would prefer this story to the classic version, because it starred a queen instead. “If even one person reads it and decides it’s their truth, that would be enough.”

Merlin took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Then you should go for it… I’ll support you in any way I can.”

“At least I’ll try… I have accepted that I’ll never be a teacher… It breaks my heart, but I’ve accepted it. But this, I have to try.”

“Yeah… okay.”

Both of their gazes drifted off to the box with Excalibur tucked in the opposite corner of the room.

*

The sun was shining the following morning as the heatwave officially began. By the time Arthur arrived at Tesco, shortly before his shift started at 6 am, he was already sweaty, and he thought it’d never happened before that it was so hot so early in the morning. At least the air-con inside was a relief.

He was under the impression that Elias had his same shift but he couldn’t see the taller man anywhere, so he normally checked in with his supervisor to set the priorities for the day. Less than twenty minutes into the shift, Elias finally appeared and immediately dragged Arthur to one side.

“I’ve got to tell you something, mate, but it’s still confidential,” Elias said, keeping his voice low. “Please keep it for yourself.”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

Elias grinned. “I got promoted, mate… from next week I start as supervisor!”

He raised his hand in front of his face and Arthur immediately smacked it with a high five.

“Oh, wow, congratulations!” Arthur said with an enthusiastic nod. “You really deserve it!”

“Thanks, mate… and I really need the extra money, because…” Elias glanced around furtively, making sure nobody was in listening range, before meeting Arthur’s eyes again. “In September I’m going back to uni.”

At that, Arthur’s jaw dropped open. “Wha-what? You’re going to uni?!” he said in disbelief. “You never mentioned anything!”

“I know, I know, I didn’t want to say anything in case I didn’t get it… I’m not exactly a top profile, and I’ve only made the last round of applications, but I got in, mate. I got in.”

Arthur pulled his friend into a quick chest-only hug with pat on the back. “That’s fantastic!” he said. “I can’t believe it, I’m so happy for you… what are you going to study?”

“Psychology,” Elias replied. “I want to specialise in Black mental health… I want to make a difference in my community, you know?”

“Wow, that’s… that’s an amazing idea, really.”

“I have to thank you for it… you inspired me, mate,” Elias said humbly. “I dropped out of uni after my first semester, I was young and dumb and thought I could make it anyway… and then I always thought it was too late to go back to studying… and then you came along with all your talk of A-levels, and teaching… you inspired me to do something.”

Arthur shook his head. “No… no, Elias, you inspired _me_ ,” he said. “I started volunteering because you inspired me to.” He glanced around the empty-ish supermarket. “And in here too, you saved me… I wouldn’t have lasted a week in here without you.” He met his friend’s eyes again and smiled. “Believe me, if there is anyone who can make a difference in a life, that’s you… you’ll be a great psychologist.”

Arthur had never thought about it before, but this life without Elias would have looked terribly different. He always thought Merlin was the one to save him, Merlin who made it worth it, and Merlin really did, but Elias did too, in a different way, but not less important. And his other friends too, the people he met, the things they showed him and taught him.

His line of thoughts was interrupted by a loud thud and Elias’s suddenly pained frown as he looked at something beyond Arthur’s shoulders. The king spun around to find a fellow Tesco employee sitting on the floor among fallen egg packages. He had a sense of déjà vu.

“Ouch, eggs,” Elias said.

“Eggs is really bad,” Arthur agreed. Only a few months earlier, he’d been that guy.

They glanced at each other before heading towards him to lend a hand.

*

When Merlin’s alarm went off, he woke up still smiling, lying naked in the bed after having spent the night in Arthur’s arms. After their first time, they also had a second time, in the shower, after dinner, getting each other off with their hands, and then a third time, later in bed, when Merlin finally got to suck Arthur off. They fell asleep after that, still naked, their limbs entangled together.

Looking down at his body, Merlin could still spot some love marks, the signs of his king’s lips and teeth and the passion they shared. He brushed them softly, the one near his left nipple, the one on his sternum, one on his side, one on his inner thigh. As he looked at himself in the mirror, later in the bathroom, he also spotted one on his clavicle, that would end up being visible at times under his scrubs.

Before leaving, he walked into the living room to get his backpack, still near the door where he’d left it the evening before, and his gaze ended up falling once again on the box containing Excalibur. Now, without Arthur there with him to provide solidity, Merlin’s mind began opening all of its darkest corners that the warlock was very carefully trying to keep shut.

The truth hit him like a punch in the face.

One way or the other, this was all temporary.

Even in the best of scenarios, in which Arthur would fight his battle and survive and then decide he wanted Merlin at his side as his boyfriend, even then, Merlin was immortal, and Arthur most likely wasn’t.

The king was going to die, sooner or later, next week or in fifty years, and Merlin would have to move on, start a new life, be young again. He’d moved on from people before, people he’d loved very much, but Arthur was different – Arthur was his destiny. Merlin was meant to love Arthur, so how could he ever move on from him? He couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without Arthur, without his presence and without the awareness that he’d be back one day. This time, once Arthur died, that was going to be it.

This train of thought took Merlin all the way to the hospital in the insane heat of the Central line, and then into the locker rooms where he put on his scrubs on autopilot, his eyes fixed in the void in front of him.

He was having it all with Arthur. He was living a life he never dared hoping.

But it would all come to an end, one day, and he would never be ready.

He met Aga in the corridor shortly after the start of their shift, and she seemed to notice his hickey immediately.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, pointing at it, wiggling her eyebrows.

Merlin couldn’t even force a smile, the darkness in his mind too thick. “Uh, yeah… yeah.”

“Did you two finally have sex?”

He nodded, still avoiding her eyes.

Aga immediately frowned at the lack of enthusiasm. “Then what’s wrong? You’re supposed to be all giddy.”

“It’s nothing,” Merlin said quickly. “I have to go.” He really didn’t, but he had to distract himself, start thinking of his patients, of anything else but the impending doom of his happiness.

Aga grabbed his wrist as he tried to walk past her. “It’s not nothing, I know you,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Merlin pressed his lips together. He hated lying to her and he really needed to get it out of his system. “Come with me,” he said.

He led her to the disabled toilet and locked the door behind them.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“He’s going to leave me,” he blurted out, all in one breath, leaning against the door.

“What? Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“Is he breaking up with you?”

“No.”

“Then what-“

“He’s leaving,” Merlin repeated, the slightest tremble in his voice. “Sooner or later, he’s going to leave again.”

Aga was frowning. “Where is he going? …Is he going to travel again? Maybe you can go with him, if he goes travelling again,” she suggested. “Or you can be in a long-distance relationship for a while…” She walked closer to him and rested her hand on his arm. “I think your relationship is strong enough, from what you tell me.”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s going to _leave_ me!” Merlin felt his throat clench, and heat rise to his cheeks, and he wished he could tell her all the truth right there and then.

“You’re right, I don’t understand what you mean…” Aga said. “You said he’s not breaking up with you, and he’s not going travelling… why would he leave you?”

“Because he has to,” he croaked out.

“Emrys, you’re not making any sense,” she said, shaking her head. “What do you mean he _has_ to leave you?”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to tell her, so bad, he wanted someone to share the weight with, someone who wasn’t Arthur, because Arthur already had his share of existential problems and he didn’t need any more.

“Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Aga said.

When Merlin opened his eyes again, they were full of unshed tears. “I’ll tell you… one day…” he breathed, low and shaky. “Can you just hold me for now, please? Just a minute.”

Without even waiting for an answer, he crashed his head on her shoulder, and she held him until he cried the darkness out.


	14. I am found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe we have reached the end!  
> When I started planning the plot out after finishing the very last episode of Merlin I never thought I would end up writing 120k, honestly, but writing this has been a major support in the last few months for my (otherwise declining) mental health, and I am so glad I can finally post the end of it.  
> Just as heads up, this chapter and the way I decided to tie things up is for sure anti-climatic, and for many of you might be underwhelming/disappointing. However I wanted to give these boys a proper happy ending without making up a fantasy sub-plot, firstly because I am incapable of it, but mainly because as I said at the very beginning I never wanted this story to be anything but a very human journey. So, just to be clear, ending the story like this was always the intention, and yes it might feel open/ambiguous at times, that was also intended.  
> To those of you who have been following this story chapter by chapter, thank you so much for your support, I could not have done it without all your comments and kudos and subscriptions!  
> To those of you who just got here and binge read 120k, thank you for reading all the way through to the end, hopefully you think it was a good use of your time!  
> To all of you, I hope you have enjoyed this story and thank you once again for everything :) xx

The hours turned into days and the days into weeks, and there was never any sign at all of the prophecy. No changes, no apparent impending fights. No messages, no other items delivered.

It was as if whoever sent Excalibur had decided to suddenly desist in their intents, to let the Once and Future King continue living his life undisturbed. Some days Arthur let himself believe it, that he was a free man, without a pre-set destiny, able to live his life the way he wanted, but those days would always come to an end eventually, and the shadow of Excalibur and a fight that was waiting to be fought made their way into his mind.

Sometimes it happened that his conversations with Merlin ended up touching the topic, inevitably, they’d wonder about the future and discuss possible scenarios. All of them had one thing in common, that they would be together to see the end of it, whatever the end would end up looking like.

Most times, however, they purposefully left the topic to the side, determined to enjoy however much time they had together. Merlin tried his best not to think about the long-term future and focus on the happy moments he was given day after day. He was used to this, he told himself. He’d done this before, live a romance to the fullest knowing it would end one day. He could cope with this, he would find a way when the time came.

Arthur found that not having the volunteer commitment meant he had again a lot of free time on his hands. He spent a lot of it working on the diaries, typing them down on his laptop and trying to make a cohesive story out of them, one that would do justice to Queen Guinevere’s great reign.

He and Merlin also went on holiday as they had discussed only a few days before Excalibur came back into their lives. They took two weeks of annual leave and travelled to Italy, spending their time among beautiful cities and enjoying the beach under the scorching hot Mediterranean sun, drinking wine and trying out new typical dishes when sunset came. Then, the night was for them only, loving and exploring each other in a vortex of passion until sleep took over.

Arthur had previously thought that Rome would be similar to Paris, or London, and he was surprised to see they were nothing alike.

“It’s a bit as if time stands still, here,” Merlin whispered as they walked down Vittorio Emanuele II Bridge hand in hand. “So many buildings are centuries old…” He smiled. “Some are even older than me.”

“It’s beautiful.” Arthur thought it had a harmony to it that other places didn’t have.

They leaned on the railing above the Tiber, shoulder against shoulder taking in the beauty that spread in front of their eyes.

Then, a shout from behind them broke the magic.

“ _A’ froci!"_

Arthur felt Merlin flinch, for a second, and he turned around to see a group of young men walking past them, laughing, and then continuing their own journey.

“What did they say?” Arthur asked.

Merlin bit his lip, looking down to the river. “What do you think they said?”

The king clenched his jaw as anger surged into him. The men were already quite far, but he believed he could run up to them, confront them about it. However, Merlin brushed his arm softly as if he could read his thoughts.

“Don’t,” the warlock said, somewhat sadly. “It’s… it was bound to happen. It can happen. It will happen every now and again.”

“So what? Just because it _happens_ doesn’t mean we should let them go like that!” Arthur countered. He was still a fairly new member of the gay community but it was the first time someone shouted homophobic slurs at him.

“It’s not worth it,” Merlin said. “Trust me, I’ve been there before… they’re stupid. Ignorant. Nothing you do will change that.”

Arthur sighed. If this was bothering him so much, he could barely imagine what Merlin lived through.

“Don’t let them ruin things for you,” the warlock added, giving Arthur’s hand a squeeze. “It’s a beautiful city… we’re together. Forget them.”

It took a while but Arthur did, eventually, focused on enjoying the time with his boyfriend.

London was fairly warm too the day they got back.

“No missed deliveries this time,” Arthur announced.

“That’s good,” Merlin said with a grin.

And they were back to waiting.

*

Summer faded slowly into autumn, the days got shorter and the breeze cooler. On the first official day of autumn, while on his way to the tube station after work, Merlin noticed how pubs in the City were already displaying their Christmas dinner ads in an attempt to get office party bookings, while the supermarkets had started stocking up on mince pies and advent calendars.

Merlin shook his head to himself. Christmas in London _really_ came earlier every year.

At least the Central line was no longer the temperature of the sun.

He found a space in the carriage where he could stand with his backpack between his legs, holding on to the bar above his head, his earphones safely in his ears. Glancing vaguely at the people sitting in front of him, he met the eyes of a young woman, sitting a few seats down the carriage. She was staring right back at him, her eyes a dense dark brown.

She smiled at him, a wide, unapologetic smile.

Merlin quickly smiled back, just a twitch of his lips, before pulling his phone out of his pocket to change playlist. It wasn’t the first time that random women smiled at him in public, especially when he was in his young years – while he knew he wasn’t conventionally handsome, he was aware of his own charm.

“ _This is Holborn. Change for the Piccadilly line. Exit here for the British Museum_.”.

A number of people stood up to leave the train when the doors opened but Merlin decided to keep standing anyway, leaving the seats for whoever might need it more.

He was focused playing a sudoku game on his phone when, a second later, someone tapped his shoulder. He glanced beyond his shoulder to see the woman who’d smiled at him earlier.

“I get off at the next one,” she said casually.

Merlin barely heard all the words she said given the music in his ears, so he just nodded. If things were different he would have probably started chatting with her, but, well, he had a boyfriend now.

“Shall we get a drink?” she asked again.

This time, he slid the phone back in his pocket and took off one of his earphones. “I’m good, thanks,” he said politely.

“Come on, my treat,” she insisted.

Merlin sighed softly. “Uh, no, really, I’m okay. But thanks for the invite.” He didn’t want to play the boyfriend card yet.

However, the woman scoffed. “Seriously? I haven’t seen you in _ages_ and you’re not even coming for a pint?!”

At those words, Merlin frowned, his brain spinning to place her face next to a name and a situation. Young brunette. Probably around his same age, possibly a bit older. Irish accent. A former colleague? The friend of a friend? Someone at the swimming pool?

_“This is Tottenham Court Road. Change for the Northern line.”_

The woman nodded towards the open carriage doors. “Come on, Merlin, I’m not taking a no for an answer.” Then, she walked out with the confidence of someone who knew she was going to be followed.

Merlin gripped the bar even tighter as the world started dancing in front of his eyes.

She said his name.

Not Emrys. His real name. A name that nobody knew, only Arthur.

As the doors started beeping, threatening to close, Merlin jumped out and ran after her. He caught up just as she was about to climb the stairs towards the exit, and swiftly grabbed her shoulder to make her spin around. He was not prepared for the shock of electricity that ran up his arm and made him flinch away immediately, suddenly dizzy.

Magic. A powerful one.

“Who are you?” Merlin asked, the light quiver in his voice betraying his firmness.

“What do you mean, who am I?” the woman countered, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Who are you? Why did you call me that?” Merlin repeated, trying to get his breath under control.

“Why are you acting as if you don’t know me?” She almost laughed, almost, before her expression turned into a serious one. “Wait, you’re not joking,” she said, softly, as if the realisation was slowly sinking down on her. “You really don’t know who I am.”

Merlin shook his head. The platform was quickly filling up with people again as the next train was about to approach. “No, no I don’t.”

“How can that be? …We’re connected.” She looked around, noticing the amount of people now standing all around them. “Let’s go outside.”

Merlin had to stop her again. “I want to know who you are.”

“Freya… I’m Freya.”

As he followed up the stairs and onto the escalator, images of a long lost past started flashing in Merlin’s head. He used to know a Freya, centuries ago, in the same time he first met Arthur. Merlin loved her, even, of course, he remembered now, not all of it, but a good part. Freya died then, near the Lake of Avalon, she died in Merlin’s arms just like Arthur did, but then she continued existing as a part of the Lake. And she still existed, now, just like Merlin did, very much human-looking.

He caught up with her after the payment barriers.

“How can you not know me?” she asked immediately as they resurfaced in a very busy Oxford Street.

“I remember you… from a long time ago,” Merlin replied. “But… but I didn’t know you were here. Still. Like me.”

“How is that possible?” Freya said again, the frustration clear in her voice. “I… I feel you. Always, everywhere. I feel your spirit, I…” She sighed, shoving her hands in her leather jacket. “And you don’t? Ever?”

Merlin shook his head, almost in shame, searching in her eyes the girl he used to know once, so long ago. The more he looked at her, the more memories flooded his mind.

Freya tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Shall we get that drink, then?”

“Yes… yes please.”

He wanted to know everything about her, about the life she’d been living. Merlin always thought he was alone, the only soul left wandering the world endlessly, but this changed everything. She was here too. He wasn’t alone in his immortality. And he could feel her magic, stronger than anything he’d felt in centuries.

As they walked down the road looking for a pub, Freya told him how her life began again, after the Lake slowly disappeared and she had the choice between dying with it and get a new form.

“I could have been anything… a tree, a flower, an animal,” she said. “I can still make the switch if I want to. But being human is quite fun in the end.”

Merlin thought he would have probably decided to die with it, if it had been him.

“So you’re not actually human?” he asked.

“I am a being of magic… like you are,” she said. She then continued with her story, how she remained in the area for a while trying to make a living, and then slowly all her sisters started migrating to Ireland in search for a new source of power, and soon Freya went too, and never left.

Merlin listened, speechless. “How did I not feel you? Not even when… when you first became human.” He thought of the disappearance of the Lake, how his magic was still decently powerful back then, and immediately the answer revealed itself. Of course, he was living in Florence in those years, he wasn’t in England.

They made their way into a pub near Covent Garden, switching to more normal conversations while they waited for their beers.

“So you said you live in Ireland, yes?” Merlin asked.

“Dublin. Have been there for… a while.”

“What brought you to London?”

“Just in town for a few days, meeting new clients,” Freya said. “I work in marketing now.”

The second they got their drinks, they walked to the back room and took a seat on a small table in the corner, as far away as they could from everyone else, the thick smell of pub carpet taking over their senses.

“Why did you never say anything?” Merlin asked immediately. “Why did you never… I don’t know, tried to make contact with me?”

“Merlin, I thought we were constantly connected … I told you, I feel you. I feel your soul in the world…” she said, rolling the glass in his hands. “How come you don’t?”

Merlin looked down. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I suppose… I think when magic started to disappear, I lost that ability too. To feel things, people… the connections.”

“What did you say?” she asked, her face twisting in confusion. “Magic disappeared?”

“Well, yes, uh…”

“Magic never went anywhere,” Freya said, still frowning. “It’s here, it’s… everywhere. Why do you think it _disappeared_?”

“I-I don’t…” Merlin felt as if the world had crashed onto him.

“You don’t feel that either? Nature, the… the trees, the earth, the river… God, the Thames is like blood inside an artery, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it!”

Merlin tried to say something but no sounds came out of his mouth. Looking at her, at the way her face lit up as she talked about magic, the way her eyes sparkled with life, Merlin could remember when he himself felt like that. When the hidden soul of the world brought him the greatest peace.

All these years, centuries, he thought that just didn’t exist anymore.

Instead, it was his own fault. He was losing it, slowly and gradually.

In the end, he shook his head again, a wave of nausea washing over him. “I don’t feel anything anymore,” he said almost in a whisper. “I barely feel what’s inside of me.”

Freya’s excited smile turned upside down. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I suppose I’m glad at least the world still has it.”

They both took a sip of their beers.

“So I assume you also don’t know about Arthur,” Freya added.

Merlin almost spat out the liquid in his mouth, his heart skipping a beat at the name. “Arthur? What about him?”

“It was me… I brought him back.”

He placed the glass against the table with shaky hands, his eyes wide and unfocused. “Wha-what?”

“I was the one who brought him back,” Freya repeated. “Again, I thought you knew and-“

“No, no, that’s not possible,” Merlin said firmly. The room had started dancing in front of his eyes and it wasn’t the alcohol. “There’s a prophecy… it said Arthur would be back when Albion’s need was greatest.”

“That’s just a silly story!”

“No! No, it’s not.”

“Oh, come on.” Freya crossed her arms to her chest, leaning back against the chair. “How long have you been alive? And how many prophecies have you seen come true?”

“No, this is different! The dragon, he…” Merlin stood up, leaning on the table with both hands to balance himself.

His train of thoughts had died and he squeezed his eyes shut, his limbs weak and a ringing sound making his way into his ears.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Merlin, are you okay? You are white as a sheet, please sit down.”

Even if Freya was sitting just in front of him, her voice sounded distant and muffled, as if she’d whispered from the other side of the room.

“I have to go,” Merlin managed to utter before stumbling his way out of the pub under the eyes of a dozen other people, but he didn’t care.

He made his way into the open air, breathing in the fresh air, looking up to meet the pink and oranges of the sky. With his hands in his hair, he started walking, aimlessly, Freya’s words resounding in his head over and over again.

There was no prophecy.

No reason why Arthur was back, no bigger picture, no battle to fight, no Albion to save. He was just back because someone brought him back, someone with magic, the same magic that Merlin had lost, maybe voluntarily, in the centuries.

All he thought he knew was never real.

He hadn’t realised how fast he’d walked until he was bent over the railing over the Thames on Waterloo bridge, squeezing his lips together to avoid being sick into the river.

He wondered how Arthur would react to it. To having no purpose, no destiny set for him, that his return was entirely dependant on somebody’s will…

It hit him that he’d left Freya in the pub, alone, without having asked her everything else he had in mind. Merlin took another deep breath, taking in the sight of the sunset on the river, cresting on the waves, before walking back to Covent Garden, mentally begging to find her still there waiting for him.

He was infinitely glad when he did.

“Are you okay?” she asked immediately. “I was scared you’d pass out.”

“I, uh, I didn’t… it was just a lot, to take in,” Merlin said, taking his chair back. He noticed Freya had almost finished her beer in the time he was out. “Thank you for staying here.”

Freya smiled. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen centuries, I wasn’t just going to leave without saying goodbye.”

Merlin took a large sip of beer. “Please, tell me… about Arthur. Why you brought him back. I need to know.”

“It was for you, at first… I used to have a soft spot for you.” She winked. “While I was a spirit of the Lake, I knew you were waiting for him… I knew what you told everyone. I thought it was just something you told yourself to make yourself feel better, but I wanted to make it real. I wanted to get Arthur back to you.”

“It wasn’t just a story I made up,” Merlin said promptly. “The dragon told me, when Arthur died, that he’d rise again when Albion’s need is greatest… I believed him.”

Freya shrugged. “Maybe he wanted you to feel better.”

Something didn’t add up in Merlin’s head, he knew for sure that other things the great dragon had said had then come true. Still he nodded anyway.

“But, uh, anyway… it started like that, but soon it became about me… my power,” Freya continued. “Nobody was ever able to bring back the dead, I wanted to be the first one… I knew that once I’d played with the boundaries of life, I would finally become the greatest sorceress to ever walk earth.” She swallowed the last of her beer in one sip. “It took me centuries of training to have that power… and then I had to wait for the perfect conditions… and then I did it.”

Merlin listened to her story carefully, leaning his glass against his lips, staring at her in the eyes. When he briefly touched her arm in the tube he felt dizzy from her power, and now he knew why.

Most powerful sorceress to ever walk earth.

It used to be him.

He didn’t care.

“Thank you,” was all he could say. “For bringing him back to me.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“And you also sent him the sword?” he asked. “You’re Fog… you signed as Fog.”

“That’s just my initials… Freya O’Gorman. My full name… again, had I known you had no idea it was me, I would have left a message.”

“No, no, it doesn’t matter,” Merlin said. It really didn’t.

“I had Excalibur with me forever, since you threw it at me in the Lake… I wanted to return it to its rightful owner.”

Merlin wanted to ask her how she found their address, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered, except that he had his King back and they were free from any destiny.

They could live their lives, and be happy, and Arthur could become a teacher. Merlin couldn’t wait to tell him.

“I owe you… everything,” Merlin said.

Freya smirked. “You can start by getting us another round.”

“Another Guinness?”

“Please.”

Merlin came back with the filled pints a few minutes later.

“You didn’t make him immortal, did you?” he asked as he placed both glasses back on the table.

Freya almost laughed. “What? Immortal? No, I just brought him back. I undid what magic did.”

Merlin bit his lower lip, suddenly saddened at the idea that his days with Arthur were still numbered. He forced out a smile, thinking of the bright side. At least those days were more than he had feared.

“I suppose I should thank you for that… for not cursing him with immortality.”

The sorceress was frowning again. “You don’t enjoy being immortal?”

“I mean, I’m okay with it now… I’m happy. I’ve been happy in the past,” Merlin replied with a shrug. “But there were moments when I hoped I could end it.”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

He looked at her as if she was joking. “Uhm, because I’m immortal? I can’t die.”

“You won’t die naturally, but you can decide to die.”

“No, I can’t… I’ve tried.”

“You have? How?”

“I’ve tried hanging myself,” he said in a whisper, leaning closer to her across the table. “Twice.”

Freya scoffed. “That’s not how you do it! Your magic keeps you alive, your magic is the only thing that can kill you.”

Once again that evening, Merlin found himself at loss of words and unable to fully grasp what he was being told.

“Trust me, I’ve seen my sisters do it,” Freya continued. “Sooner or later, all of them decided it was their time to go… they went to sleep and the next morning they were gone. Their spirit was back in nature.”

“What about you?” was the only thing Merlin managed to ask.

“Me? Oh, I quite enjoy it, see the world change, develop…” She looked around the room, her eyes darting to the other people in the pub. “I like being a part of it… and now, well, they say this is the last generation, don’t they? I really want to stick around… see how it ends.” She brought the glass to her lips. “Maybe that’s what the dragon saw… Arthur being brought back, and then the Earth turning into an arid wasteland shortly after.”

“Uh… maybe, yes.”

If at first Merlin couldn’t let go of that thought, and all the information that were shoved onto him that evening, but soon the pint turned into two, and then nibbles came and then a full dinner, and then dessert and more drinks, and the conversation between them flowed to completely different topic, their lives in the centuries and everything they did, the things that made them special.

Some indefinite time later, a waitress approached. “Guys, we’re closing in ten minutes, are you paying together or separate?” the girl asked.

Merlin immediately snapped out of the conversation he was having with Freya, his eyes opening wide in fear as he pulled his phone out of his jacket to find it dead.

“You’re closing? What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost midnight,” the waitress replied.

“We’re paying together… he’s paying,” Freya said cheekily. “He owes me.”

Merlin quickly pulled out his card, realising it was later than he ever intended and he never texted Arthur to let him know he wasn’t coming home at the usual time. And now his phone had died. And he was probably not getting to the station in time to catch the last tube.

“I’ll walk you to the hotel,” he told Freya as they walked out of the pub in a very silent Covent Garden. He might have been in a rush but he still knew better than to let a woman walk alone at night, even in central London.

However, the sorceress laughed. “What, you don’t think I can defend myself?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Don’t worry, I’m a big girl, and my hotel is just down Shaftesbury Avenue,” she said, nodding to her right. “I’ll get an Uber for you, your boyfriend must be worried.”

They walked to the main road and stood side by side waiting for the car to take Merlin home.

“So what you said earlier… it’s true? Are you sure?” Merlin asked tentatively. “That I can die when I decide to.”

“Of course you can.”

“What if… what if my power isn’t strong enough?” His voice had become smaller. “I’ve lost so much of it.”

“You haven’t lost it, you’ve probably just… closed yourself off to it,” Freya said with a shrug. “You should get in touch with it again. Feel it.”

“How?” Merlin asked.

Freya looked at him in the night, the neon lights from the theatres reflecting on her features. “Magic is a gift, Merlin,” she said. “And what do we do with gifts?”

“We… use them,” he mumbled, glancing down. “We’re grateful for them.”

Freya smiled, warmly. “We give them.”

Merlin looked up again, confused, silently asking her to elaborate.

“Humans aren’t born with it anymore… it’s our responsibility to keep it alive in people,” she continued. “And sharing your power with someone could even help you feeling closer to it.” She shrugged again. “Just a thought.”

“Who-who would I even give it to?”

In that moment, the Uber car approached them.

“Someone you love… someone you trust with your life,” Freya said. “Someone you know would never use it for evil… unless it’s necessary.”

She winked as Merlin slowly climbed in the car.

“I’m going to be in town for a couple more days if you want to hang out,” she said.

Merlin nodded, still confused, before waving goodbye through the window.

He thought of little else during the whole journey home, glancing outside the window as they passed Hyde Park, as he wondered how much power was hidden in there, in those trees and the wind that blew softly among them, a power he could perhaps feel again one day.

A part of him that he believed was lost forever was still hidden inside of him. He just needed to find the way to rediscover it.

It was way past midnight when he finally reached his flat and turned the key into the lock. The second he opened the door, he was met with Arthur’s livid face, his arms crossed to his chest and his phone held tightly in his hand.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Arthur barked as soon as he saw him. “Do you know what time it is?!”

“I, uh, I know-“

“It’s almost one!” Arthur pointed a finger towards him. “I texted you, called you, I…”

“My phone died.”

“Yes I got that much!” The king’s face was flushed red. “I called the hospital and they said you clocked out on time, then I checked with your friends and you weren’t with any of them… do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Merlin said, slowly walking closer. “I lost track of time.”

“I thought something happened to you,” Arthur whispered, the anger slowly leaving space to relief in seeing his boyfriend walking in in one piece. “What happened? Where were you?”

“I… I met an old friend,” Merlin said softly. “There are… uh, things you need to know. Let’s sit down.”

There, in the middle of the night, in the living room of their flat, Merlin told his king everything he learned that night about their destiny and their life and magic and Freya. Arthur listened, mostly in silence, his eyes darting around the room as his brain struggled to keep up with the information he was receiving.

“How do you know she’s not lying?” was the king’s first question when Merlin was done talking.

“I know she isn’t… I feel it,” Merlin replied.

“So I have no destiny?”

“No… neither of us does.” Perhaps there was still something coming, the warlock thought, but it was not their direct responsibility.

“I can study… go to uni.”

Merlin smiled, his hand settling on top of Arthur’s. “Yes… if you want to.”

Suddenly Arthur was smiling too. “And you can die?”

“I can die,” the warlock echoed. It was still hard to believe. “When you go, I can go with you.” He glanced around, his eyes falling on the window in front of them, the night blue sky, the clouds. “Or not,” he added softly. “Maybe I’ll decide I’ll want to stick around… see how it ends.”

Arthur squeezed his hand. “You have the choice.”

“I have the choice.”

Merlin never thought he ever had the choice, and he loved it now. Perhaps he’d end up deciding he wanted to die with Arthur, perhaps he’d want to keep living, move on once more, do it all again.

He loved that the choice was fully in his hands, and nobody else’s.

While Merlin made his way to the bathroom, Arthur stood up, somewhat uncertainly, feeling like he was in a dream, fluctuating in an alternate reality. He wondered if things would feel more real in the morning. His feet brought him to the box with Excalibur that for months had sat in the corner of their living room, menacing like a dark cloud; Arthur kneeled next to it, opening the cardboard edges to reveal the shiny metal beneath. Then he did something he still hadn’t done since that very first day – he picked it up, wrapping his hand tightly around the hilt, feeling the weight of it, lifting it up in front of his face to admire all its length.

He couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his face.

It was no longer a threat, no longer a memento of bad things to come.

The sword he was holding now was again _his_ sword, a beloved memory of the person he once was and loved being, a memory of his family, his friends, his kingdom.

He no longer wanted it to be in the box. He wanted to find a way to keep it exposed, maybe hanging it to the wall, maybe in the bedroom, giving it the importance it would always have in his heart.

But, Arthur thought, he had all the time to figure out the best placement.

*

Arthur hadn’t met Freya before, or if he had, he’d forgotten about her. However, as he walked into Soho Square Gardens, he spotted her immediately, sitting on one of the benches near the gate. It must have been her, he thought, because she smiled and waved.

Arthur paced towards her, a mix of feelings bubbling up inside him. There she was, the person behind it all, the woman who brought him back to life, the most powerful sorceress in the world. And yet, to him, she looked so normal that he forgot about her magic for a moment.

“Arthur,” she greeted him, putting her phone back in her purse. “It’s nice to see you, Merlin said you wanted to meet me.”

The king stood in front of her, paralysed for a moment by her polite smile, her head tilted slightly to the left. He couldn’t believe he was here because of her and her only.

“You had no right,” he said eventually, firmly, his hands balled up in fists.

Freya raised one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You had no right,” Arthur repeated. “To toy with my existence like that… to bring me back here on a whim, for your own amusement.” He could feel angry heat rise to his cheeks. “I was happy where I was… I never asked to come back, you have no idea what a trauma it was to just wake up, in the rain, fifteen hundred years after I took my last breath… without my family, my friends, _anyone_.” He shook his head, his eyes lost in her dark brown ones. “You had no right.”

As to further fuel his anger, Freya grinned. “What, are you telling me you’re not liking it here?” Slowly, almost provocatively, she stood up from the bench and narrowed the distance between them until she was standing just a few inches away. “Because I can undo what I did, right now.”

Her eyes were fixed on his like a predator on its prey, and Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.

He forcefully ignored it, scoffing. “What are you going to do, kill me here? In plain daylight, in Soho, in front of all these people?” Arthur never broke the eye contact, challenging her to face her own actions, until a loud snapping noise came from the bench behind them. Glancing beyond Freya, Arthur noticed one long crack cutting the wood of the bench from side to side.

He swallowed almost loudly, his confidence waning almost immediately. He could swear Freya’s eyes, already quite dark, had turned fully black for a fraction of second, instead of glowing gold like Merlin’s did.

“That could have been any of your bones, including your neck,” the sorceress said, the edge of her lips curling up in a smirk. “Or better, maybe one of your blood vessels… in your brain.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Yes, a sudden brain bleed… such a tragic death for a fit young man like yourself… so unexpected, yet completely natural, one of those things that sadly just happen… unfortunate circumstances.”

Arthur was horrified to see the smirk on her face turn into a wide grin as she spoke, his stomach twisting on itself in pure fear as he was reminded of what she was capable of. Everything. Anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so scared of someone.

“Is that what you want, Arthur?” Freya tilted her head to the side again, still maintaining that eye contact that Arthur couldn’t bring himself to break. “To just drop dead, right here, right now?”

Arthur shook his head, unable to speak.

“No? Are you sure?” Her lips pouted slightly. “It wouldn’t hurt, you know, you’d be gone before you even realise it’s happening.”

For a second, Arthur feared she was going to go ahead with it. Kill him. Suddenly. Before he could fight for his life.

As his heart hammered against his ribcage, he shook his head again. “I’m sure,” he forced out. “I don’t want to die.”

Freya took a step back. “Good, because I would have hated doing that to Merlin, killing his beloved boyfriend… though if you do want to die, I can give you a few tips for a painless DYI death.”

“I don’t want to die,” Arthur repeated, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I-I’m enjoying this life.”

“Then I think the words you were originally looking for are ‘thank you, Freya, for bringing me back when you did, much appreciated’,” the sorceress said, fixing her purse handle across her shoulder. Then, she nodded. “Take care, yes?”

She patted his shoulder twice as she walked past him towards the garden gate, leaving Arthur still in complete disbelief. Before he could realise it, he was calling her back. “Freya, uh, wait.”

Freya spun around on her heels, her arms crossed to her chest. “Yes?”

“I, uh… you’re right. Thank you,” Arthur mumbled, unsure if he was expressing true gratitude or if he was just trying to appease her out of fear. “All my life, I always had a path pre-carved out for me, people making choices for me… now for the first time I am free to be whoever I want to be. It’s… fantastic.”

For the first time, the smile that appeared on her face seemed genuine. “You’re welcome.”

“Can I… I don’t know, buy you a coffee or something?” Arthur asked. “I think we started off on the wrong foot.”

“I remember a cute café nearby, they have really good cakes, is that still open?”

“L’eto café? Yes, it’s open.”

Freya nodded to the gate. “I’ll take up on your offer then, let’s go.”

Arthur followed her, watching as he walked, almost feeling the power emanating from her. He figured she was someone it was better being friends with.

*

Merlin believed he’d always known, on some level, that he was going to take this step one day, that it was inevitable, even. The very second Freya suggested he share his magic with somebody else, Merlin’s heart had already settled on someone. The only choice. There was nobody else in his life that was worthy enough of this gift.

But there was something else he needed to do before even asking to share his gift with her.

“Are you sure we’re alone?” Merlin asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

Aga rolled her eyes. “Yes, I told you twice already, my flatmates are at work, they won’t be back for a couple of hours,” she stated, taking a seat next to him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Merlin said, his palms damp from sweat.

“Something private, yes, you’ve said… is something wrong with Arthur?”

“No, it’s not about Arthur… it’s about me.” He took a deep breath. “Who I am. Truly.”

The deep frown on Aga’s face seemed to relax. “Oh, is this about your gender identity?”

“No, no, it’s not that… nothing about that.”

“What is it then? Are you going to make me guess?”

“No, I, uh… I’m just trying to decide where to start.” Merlin’s eyes avoided hers. “It might be a lot to take, for you.”

“You’re my best friend, Emrys,” Aga whispered, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a kind smile on her lips. “There’s nothing you can tell me that would make me love you less.”

“I am not who you think I am, Aga,” Merlin said.

His heart started hammering against his chest as he watched the smile gradually disappear from his friend’s face.

“Uhm, what do you mean?” She let out a nervous snicker. “Should I be… scared?”

“No, please don’t be… just listen to me, please? Until the end.”

Slowly, Merlin told her everything about himself, his long life, his magic, his true name, and watched her reactions change like the wind – the amusement at first, when she thought this was all a joke; the disbelief, slowly settling in, then the betrayal, then the panic. He watched her pace around the room, leaning against the kitchen counter, her eyes veiled with tears, her cheeks flushed red.

“I don’t believe you,” she croaked out, her breath laboured even though she was standing still.

Merlin got up from the sofa, walking towards her with slow but firm steps. When he tried touching her shoulder, she flinched away.

“Let me prove it to you,” he whispered. “Give me your hands.”

He saw the reluctance in her eyes for a second, but she did, in the end, she lifted her trembling arms, her palms facing the ceiling. Slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, he cupper her smaller hands between his own larger ones.

He didn’t know if it was his irises glowing gold, or the light flutter of butterfly wings tickling her palms, but Aga suddenly broke down in a loud sob as tears started streaming down her cheeks. She leaned her elbows against the counter, hiding her face in her hands, her shoulders spasming rhythmically. The butterfly, small and white as snow, had settled on top of her head.

Once again, Merlin tried touching her shoulder, his own heart wrenching in his chest because he hated seeing her like this, but once again she flinched away.

“Go away,” Aga said, broken and shaky.

“Aga, I-“

“Go away!” she repeated louder, as firmly as she could.

Merlin raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving.” He made the motion towards the front door. “Before I go, just one thing… I, uh, I understand if this is too much. If you never want to see me again, I’d understand that,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on her sobbing figure. “But you’re my dearest friend Aga, you’re… you’re like a sister to me, and I don’t know what I would do without your friendship.” He gave it a second just to see if she would react, but she didn’t. “I’ll leave now, but I hope… that you’re going to call me, some day… that we can talk, be friends again, I-I… Okay, I’ll go.”

He was out on the stairs landing, already wondering if he’d managed to ruin things for good, when he felt a pair of arms lace up around his waist and a head pressed against his back. He immediately turned around and enveloped her in his own arms, his heart fluttering with joy.

“I’m still going to need some time,” Aga said with a sniffle, her head buried in his chest.

“Yes, all the time you need… I’ll be waiting.” Suddenly he was crying too. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

Arthur had never seen London from the top of a skyscraper. He’d wanted to, multiple times, but he just never had the chance really, so when Merlin told him he’d booked two tickets to the Sky Garden for Arthur’s birthday, the king was very excited.

“There’s a couple of bars up there, we can get a drink and enjoy the view,” Merlin said as they queued for the lift, hand in hand.

“You had a really good idea, to come here,” Arthur said.

“I wanted to do something special for your birthday… it’s been one year since you…” Merlin glanced around at the crowd of people queuing with them. “Since I got you back.”

Arthur couldn’t believe it’d been a year since his return. A part of him felt he’d lived here his whole existence.

“And I’m sorry your friends couldn’t join us,” Merlin added.

Arthur shrugged. “That’s fine, they were all busy… doesn’t matter, I’ll do something with them next weekend.” He had to admit he’d felt bad when all of his friends, one after the other, told him they were unavailable on his birthday and he couldn’t have the big party he wanted. Still, he had Merlin, and that was more than enough.

The lift was fast and made him feel a bit dizzy, but after just a few seconds the doors opened to the Sky Garden and Arthur’s jaw dropped. It was a beautiful, airy space, with lots of plants and enormous windows which granted a full view over the city.

However, Arthur’s eyes and heart were soon captured by something different – his friends, all of them, were standing just to the right of the lifts entrance, grinning and screaming ‘surprise’ as soon as they saw him.

Arthur walked quickly to them, his mouth still hanging open. “What-what are you guys doing here?!” he said. “I thought you were busy today!”

“Come on mate, you really thought I was going to spend your birthday _studying_ instead of partying?” Elias said with a chuckle. “No way.”

Immediately, Arthur turned to Merlin by his side and pulled him in for a kiss. “You did this, didn’t you? You asked them to lie!”

“Might have been my idea, yes,” Merlin said.

Arthur laughed, shaking his head, greeting all his guests one by one.

As they all made a move towards the bar to get a drink, Arthur excused himself one moment. “I’ll join you in a second,” he said.

“Sure, I’ll order for you,” Merlin said. “Camden Hells?”

“Yes please, or San Miguel.”

“Got it.”

Then, Merlin followed the rest of the group, as Arthur’s eyes followed them with a smile. One year in this life, and he had so much to be grateful for, starting from each one of those crazy mates of his, making his life amazing every day.

His gaze then fell on Merlin, watching him as he laughed and chatted with the others. Arthur loved him more than he could say, and loved it even more to see how happy Merlin was. Since the whole thing with Freya happened, Merlin had decided to share his powers with Aga after some days of reticence on her side, and Arthur loved watching them just making little spells and Merlin getting more and more in touch with his powers every day. The truth was, Arthur could see how Merlin now was more than happy – growing his powers back made him at peace. Content. And Arthur loved witnessing every single moment of that.

The king crossed the hall all the way to the terrace, leaning over the railing, taking in the sunset colours of the sky hiding behind some grey clouds. The Shard was standing just in front of him, on the other side of the river; the Tower of London was just to his left, the oldest building in the city fitting in perfectly in a framework of history. Merlin was right, there was beauty in the contrast.

Arthur had finished the first draft of his book, and was now starting the second one. He’d also managed to join the A-levels courses he wanted to do, fitting them in among his busy schedule, carefully planning the days until the exam sessions in spring. Then if he was lucky, uni would await him the following autumn.

He had a new tattoo as well, on his left shoulder. It was Camelot’s crest, a reminder of who he used to be, a homage to his family and friends, who would always have a space in his heart.

He was in the city he loved, doing the things he loved, surrounded by people he loved.

He belonged.

**THE END**


End file.
